


Being Neighbourly

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-23
Updated: 1999-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A new neighbour lands Fraser and Vecchio in trouble





	Being Neighbourly

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Being Neighbourly

# BEING NEIGHBOURLY
    
    
    Created by the camel committee (Clara Duong, Kim Wedow ,
    Karen Courtney, Laurie Jacobs,  Kim Hamilton, Thorfinn Tait, & Brian
    Casey) 
    
    BEING NEIGHBOURLY:  Part A
    
            The night was pitch black and filled with the usual sounds of
    anonymous cars driving by.  Dogs barked and there were countless noises
    which filled the silences which threatened to erupt at any moment. 
            Ben lay back in bed - or what served as his bed.  He lay on his
    bedroll on the ground, Dief was stretched out on the bed and was fast
    asleep, although he was ready to leap to attention at the slightest signal.
    
            Ben stared at the ceiling, heard people shouting in the street,
    doors slamming, querulous voices and he smiled to himself as he remembered
    how Ray had done his damnedest to discourage him from moving into the
    neighbourhood.
    
            He was fast friends with all of his neighbours now, they no longer
    slammed doors in his faces and their warmth and care helped to alleviate
    the hollow ache inside him.
    
            He sighed a little.  He missed home, missed the purity of the
    snow, missed how blue the sky could look when there was nothing around
    but a man and his thoughts.  Now he lay in the darkness with his memories
    and his homesickness.
            He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
    
            "Goddamnit!"
    
            Ben opened his eyes drowsily as he heard the sound of a woman's
    voice down the hall.  It was an angry voice, seething with irritation
    and annoyance.
    
            He rose, pulling on his jeans.  Dief jumped to his feet, wagging
    his tail expectantly and Ben crossed to the door and opened it, looking
    out curiously.
    
            There was a young woman making her way awkwardly up the stairs,
    attempting to carry a large, heavy box full of junk.  Awkwardly, because
    she had a marked limp which marred her walk.  She was slight and
    delicate-looking in her faded jeans and disreputable sweat-shirt and
    the box seemed almost as heavy as she was.
    
            He hurried forward immediately.  "Can I help you with that ma'am?"
    he asked courteously, reaching out automatically to take the heavy box
    from her.
            "No." she said curtly,"I don't need your help."
    
            Her voice was hostile, but it was a clear voice and would have
    been rather pleasant had it not been for the anger marring its tones.
            He looked into her dark eyes and found no warmth.
    
            "It looks a little heavy," he began easily and she pushed past
    him 
            "I don't need your help, savvy?"
    
            He watched for a moment as she struggled to open the door of
    3K with a key.  Then he reached out and took the box from her, ignoring
    her fearsome glare.
    
            "It looks like we'll be neighbours," he said cheerfully, and
    she turned and looked around at him fulminatingly.
    
            "It's too early in the morning for this," she muttered,"Is that
    a Canadian accent I hear?" she demanded rather ungraciously.
            "Yes ma'am, at your service."
    
            She rolled her eyes, grabbed her box and slammed the door. 
            "ThankYOU, ma'am," he said to the door and went back to his room,
    not sure whether to be amused or otherwise.
    
            Marie-Claire massaged her leg, groaning a little.  It hurt like
    the devil and she felt a little guilty at having been so snappy with
    the helpful stranger, but at seven in the morning, she hated meeting
    cheerful Pollyanna types.
    
            Through her haze of pain she vaguely remembered he'd been very
    tall and well-built - very militaristic.  She scowled.  She didn't like
    guys who looked like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.  She didn't
    trust them at all, especially when they called you 'ma'am'.
    
            "Damn," she muttered and dismissed him from her mind.  She was
    becoming a sour old maid with sharp, snappish ways.  She made herself
    a cup of industrial strength coffee and let the caffeine thrum through
    her already edgy body.
    
            His blue eyes had reminded her uneasily of someone else and as
    she drank the coffee, her hands trembled.
    
            "So you've got a new neighbour - what's he like?" Ray demanded
    as they ate lunch at a very greasy diner.
    
            Usually it was Ray who conducted a neurotic monologue with Ben
    commenting laconically from time to time when appealed to or disagreeing
    when it was necessary.
            Occasionally Ben would interrupt to interject an erudite
    observation to me conversation whether it be the Latin origins of a particular
    word, or the political context of a particular remark.  It drove Ray
    crazy, he hadn't the benefit of such a well-rounded education and he
    couldn't believe Ben could actually quote the classics - and why the
    hell he'd feel the need to.
    
            "SHE's....very.....aloof." Bens said into his hotdog.  "She slammed
    the door in my face." he said, his eyes faintly puzzled.
    
            Probably because women usually fell at his feet, Ray thought
    sourly.  He'd seen the way even the most hardened police woman  turned
    to mush around Fraser, saw the way they cooed over him and doted on his
    clean cut good looks and old-fashioned charm and manners.
    
            Some of the remarks that the two of them had overheard made Ben
    turn brick-red and Ray gag.
    
            "You make me sick, Benny, nauseous.  I want to puke when I see
    you." Ray exclaimed and Ben looked up from his food.
    
            "I'm sorry you feel that way." Ben said politely.  His hat was
    on the chair beside him and he ate neatly, as always, to avoid soiling
    his immaculate uniform.
    
            That was another thing that annoyed Ray.  It just wasn't fair
    that Ben looked like a GQ model.  He was tall, straight and had a certain
    quiet panache.  He could even wear that goddamned stupid-looking mountie
    uniform and still pull the chicks.
    
            Any other guy would have been a social disaster, but Ben stood
    as tall and proud as if he was wearing Hugo Boss or Ralph Lauren instead
    of idiotic pants and a jacket as red as a fire-engine.
    
            "You expect every woman who meets you to fall at your feet -
    but why?  You don't take advantage of it, NO, it's just that good ol'
    Canadian homestead charm!  What's the point, dammit?  It's wasted!  I'll
    bet you haven't been laid since you got here!"
    
            Ben looked a little taken aback at this unwarranted diatribe,"Well,
    I haven't been here that long, Ray, and I have been rather busy...."
    he began and Ray swore, running a hand through his already thinning hair.
    
            "Shit!  How the hell do they reproduce up in Canada, anyhow?"
    
            Ben was secretly pleased that Ray was yelling at him again. 
    It had been hard to return to normal....it had been uncomfortable when
    Ray, overcome with guilt, had treated him as though he was breakable.
    He studied his orange juice.
    
            "I suppose you think you're gorgeous or something.  Jesus, that
    goddamned outfit you wear should be a turn off and a half!"
    
            "Could you please pass the pepper, Ray," Ben asked politely.
    
            "Don't they know you're just a Canadian hick??" he demanded.
    "You even drive a dog sled for Pete's sake!"
    
            "I thought you enjoyed the experience," Ben said with a hint
    of reproach in his blue eyes and Ray smiled despite himself, he could
    always depend on Ben to play the straightman to his wild, energetic enthusiasms.
    Both of them often wondered what on earth they'd do without the other.
    
            Ben's eyed opened.  He could hear the sound of an uneven step
    coming up the stairs.  Obviously his surly new neighbour had returned.
    It was five in the morning.
    
            The door of her apartment opened and closed and he listened to
    the sounds of her movements.  It was a strange time to be returning home,
    eh thought, and he lay awake as he heard the unlikely sound of Mozart
    playing gently through the walls.
    
            It was oddly soothing for such an acerbic woman.  He closed his
    eyes and let the music soak into him.  It was almost ethereal, restful
    and a pleasant lassitude filled his veins.
    
            It drifted into a sobbing violin solo, haunting, high...it made
    him think of Home.
    
            "Ray, what's the matter with you - you haven't been yourself
    all day?" Ben asked, looking mildly concerned in the midst of his own
    abstractions.  He had been thinking about his mysterious new neighbour
    all day.  All his famed powers of deduction and intuition couldn't help
    him solve this perplexing enigma.
    
            Ray glowered at him,"You still obsessing about that babe next
    door, Benny?"
    
            "I never said she was a babe," Ben said with great dignity,"I
    would never dream of referring to a fellow human being in such a derogatory
    and demeaning fashion."
    
            "Oh, she's a dog is she?" Ray inquired sympathetically and Diefenbaker
    growled menacingly.
    
            "Shut up, you still owe me an eclair,"  Ray told the wolf who
    sniffed and covered his eyes with his paws.
            He returned his attention momentarily to his friend's
    predicament,"Look, why don't you just ask her what her name is?"
            "She keeps slamming her door in my face." Ray shrugged,
    
            "Now you know how the rest of the world live, Benny.  You could
    always do your boy scout deduction trick - read her mailbox."
            "She hasn't put her name on it yet."
            "Winnebago (sp??)." Ray said absently, hypnotically.
            "I beg your pardon?" Ben inquired, baffled.
    
            Ray shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, he looked very
    troubled.
    
            "If her name's Winnebago I'll be very disturbed." he said inexplicably.
    
            Ben considered what appeared to be a non sequitur with great
    seriousness.
    
            "Ray, is there any reason why her name WOULD be winnebago?" 
            "Benny - do you believe in dreams?"
    
            Ben cleared his throat,"Well, among the Inuit I do believe that
    there are certain....."
    
            "Every night," Ray began in a rapturous tone,"I have this great
    dream....this gorgeous babe with blonde hair and big eyes....you know
    she's really stunning...like that actress what's her name and she
    says.....'Raymondo...."
            He drifted off into her own little private world.
    
            Dief made a sound of inquiry, echoed in a less canine form by
    Ben. 
            Ray shook himself again,"Yeah, so I've got this recurring dream....and
    then for the past week.....it just disappeared."
            "Ray...what's this got to do with anything?"
    
            Ray looked at him witheringly,"The winnebago....my dream's vanished....poof!
    gone!  Now every night, I dream about this winnebago." 
            Ben frowned,"Um...."
    
            "What do you suppose it means Benny?  I'm afraid to go to sleep!
    All I see is this winnebago.....do you suppose I'm developing one of
    those weird kinky fetishes?  Don't you Canadians get them when you've
    been locked up in the snow too long?"
    
            "I've never had a fantasy about a Winnebago, Ray." Ben said apologetically.
    
            Ray paced the floor restlessly.  "Maybe it's got something to
    do with HER."
            "Who, Ray?" Ben asked, thoroughly confused.
            "The dog who lives next door to you."
            "Ray, I told you, I never said that she was a dog."
    
            "Damn, what does it mean?  I've never even owned a winnebago!"
    
           "Perhaps Ray..." Fraser offered as Ray cut him off in mid-stride.
    
            "What am I thinking. I'm a cop." pounding his head with his hand.
    "We have resources civilians and Mounties don't have", Ray said beaming.
    "I'll have Ms. Winnebago's REAL name by the time you go home."
            "But Ray, that's illegal", Fraser objected.
    
            "Ah, it would be for you -- but you see I'm investigating a case."
    
            "A case?"  Benny asked quizzically.
    
            "Yep.  Disturbing the peace.  Well, it will be as soon as you
    report it.  Let's go."
    
            Ray turned and started to leave -- Fraser quickly caught up with
    him, with Dief following right behind.
    
            "You want me to report her for disturbing the peace so that you
    can find out her name?"
    
            Ray stopped abruptly in his tracks, spun around looking deeply
    hurt.  "Benny, I'm hurt that you'd think that I was doing this for ME.
    Don't you want to know who is waking you up in the wee hours and slamming
    doors in your face?"
    
            "She'll eventually have to put her name on the mailbox Ray--I
    can wait." 
           "AH-HA!!" Ray erupted into jubilant, satisfied laughter, thoughts
    of the Winnebago momentarily banished.  "So there is a spark of interest
    in the everso cool Mountie heart -- besides, what if she has a P.O. Box?"
    
            "Of course I'm interested" interjected Fraser.  "She's a neighbour
    and it's important to know who your neighbours are in case of an
    emergency...."
    
            "Don't give me that Benny -- you're, you know -- INTERESTED!
    Let's go!" 
            "But Ray..."
    
            The alleyway behind the apartment block was dank and unused.
    People threw their garbage their without a thought for the local
    environment.  It spilled out of the bags, covering the ground with rotten
    food, old wrappers and dented beer cans.
    
            The notion of recycling hadn't yet made its appearance in the
    neighbourhood and the stench was enough to make passers-by quite giddy
    from the fumes on a balmy day.
    
            Several cats ambled through the garbage aimlessly, picking their
    way gracefully and sinuously, their paws padding through the filth as
    if they were walking on a crushed silk blanket.
    
            Their eyes studied the refuse narrowly, sniffing out potential
    meals and they leapt from bag to bag, bin to bin in their search for
    hidden benefits.
    
            The most scruffy of the cats was a large, ratty looking character
    with half an ear, one eye and a tattered coat which he wore as proudly
    as a king's mantle.  He was proud of his status as a homeless cat, it
    elevated him among the overbred peerage Siamese whom he occasionally
    encountered on his lone rambles.
    
            He knew the garbage to avoid, he knew the sounds that gave away
    the dangers of the street.  He looked with contemptuous pity at the younger,
    thinner cats who pawed through bags, spilling the contents onto the cold
    ground.
    
            It wasn't a good place for cats, but he had survived..... 
            He watched from his position on the fence as the shadows approached
    the young Toms and then slunk away into the shadows when he heard the
    piteous cries which were muffled by the sack which covered them.
    
           "For God's sake!  Some of us are trying to get some sleep in here!"
    Marie-Claire bellowed as she buried her head beneath her pillow.
            She could hear someone muttering outside her door and in
    desperation she jumped to her feet, falling to the ground immediately
    in a crumpled heap as her leg gave way.
    
            Her mouth thinned, whitening around the edges as she thought
    longingly of the painkillers in her bag.  Resolutely, she dragged herself
    to her feet and  limped across the room, throwing the door open.
    
            Crouched in front of her neighbour's door was a young black boy,
    in his early teens with a baseball cap on backwards - at the tag still
    on it. He was grabbing the handle of the door and rattling it.  He was
    obviously making an attempt at breaking in.
    
            "The inexplicabilities of street fashion aside - what do you
    think you're doing?" she inquired calmly, running her fingers through
    her tangled hair and trying to settle her thoughts.  She had been at
    her new place only a few days and already she was beginning to wonder
    whether she had made the right decision.
    
            Admittedly the place was closer to the station, but she had never
    liked rats....call it pathetic, but their revolting twitching whiskers
    and beady eyes always made her shudder.
    
            She had chased five out of her room - or perhaps it was the same
    rat coming back for more.  She wasn't knowledgable enough to identify
    it. 
            The boy smiled ingenuously, his white teeth brilliant and welcoming,
    
            "I'm here to take Dief for a walk." he told her.  "Frazier [heh
    heh!] didn't tell me that the door was stuck again!"
    
            "Do you really expect me to believe that?  Hmm? you're not breaking
    in?" she inquired severely, amused at his brazen-faced lie.
    
            "I'm serious,"  the boy said indignantly.  "I'm Willie!  And
    Dief's waiting for me...." He lowered his voice and said confidingly,"He's
    a good wolf, but who knows what might happen when he's been shut up all
    day." 
            "A wolf?" Marie-Claire demanded, intrigued despite herself. 
            "Named Diefenbaker - a  Canadian prime minister."
    
            "I'm well aware of that fact." she said flatly, the amusement
    fading out of her eyes momentarily.  She went to stand beside the boy
    and rattled the door experimentally.
            "You mean he doesn't lock his door?" MC demanded.
    
            "His lock got stolen ages ago -- the door gets stuck when the
    weather is dry."
    
            "OK," MC said practically and even though she knew it would hurt
    like hell, she wound up and kicked the door in.
    
        Under Willie's critical but admiring eyes, the door flew open and
    he gave a low whistle.  "Wow!  Are you a kung fu expert or something?"
    
            "Not really." she said, turning white from the agonising pain
    which shot up her leg.  "Damn I'm an idiot - WHY do I do stuff like that?"
    she muttered to herself and gritted her teeth.
    
         The throb in her leg was momentarily numbed as she stared at the
    magnificent wolf which bounded through the door and jumped into Willie's
    arms.
    
            "He is beautiful," she murmured, an odd note in her voice as
    the wolf turned his attention to her and regarded her suspiciously.
            "He's deaf." Willie said expansively.
    
            "Diefenbaker, I'm honoured to make your acquaintance.....I'm
    Marie-Claire."
            "Huh?" Willie demanded,"What kind of name is that?"
    
            She smiled,"You can call me MC if your French isn't up to it."
    
            Willie pulled on Dief's ears reflectively,"We're going for a
    walk - you can come, too if you get your ass in gear."
    
            Marie-Claire shrugged,"Give me a moment -"  Willie followed MC
    to her apartment & entered right behind.
            "Man this place is a pit." Willie observed.
    
            "Ah yes, but I call it home." MC countered sarcastically. 
            "You know I think you could use some expert help in fixing this
    place up."Willie said as dollar signs flashed in his eyes.
            "Expert help, huh?"
            "Yeah, and I'm the expert" Willie boasted.
    
            "That's O.K. I think I'll manage." MC dejectedly replied as she
    sat down & put on her shoes.
    
            "Hey, I'm serious. I helped Fraser & his place is all squared
    away." Willie proudly declared.
    
            "Looks a little sparse to me. Besides, I'll just bet you did
    it out the goodness of your heart."
            "Well...I..." Willie stuttered.
    
            "Uh-huh.How much did he pay you?" MC inquired triumphantly. 
            "I don't know." he answered in an embarrassed tone.
    
            "You don't know how much you were paid?" she asked incredulously.
    
            "No. It was Frasers' pink money & nobody would take it. But that's
    O.K. 'cause Fraser's cool & I'd done it anyway-even if he didn't pay
    me" 
            Willie beamed as Dief made an impatient sound.
    
            "He paid you in Canadian money? Unbelievable." MC said, shaking
    her head as she finished tying her shoes."O.K., I'm ready. Let's hit
    the road." 
            "I have to warn ya," Willie cautioned. "It's really Dief who's
    in charge when we go out & sometimes it's kinda an adventure."
    
            "I think I'll be able to keep up." MC assured him - she who had
    no idea what she was in for.  As Willie opened the door, Dief took off
    out of the apartment & hurtled down the hall as if he were a wolf on
    a mission. 
        Willie glanced over his shoulder with a wicked grin,"Hey, suit yourself."
    
    BEING NEIGHBOURLY:  PART B
    
            Dief reached the hallway door long before Willie & Marie-Claire
    had even made it down the stairs but found his progress to the outside
    world blocked by of all things a closed door.
    
            Frustrated, he first pawed at it in hopes of it opening,that
    had worked on more than one occasion but not this time.  He then tried
    barking - NOPE.
    
            Admitting defeat,for the moment, he sat down and waited for the
    cavalry to arrive. The tell tale signs of rescue came seconds later as
    he felt 2 sets of foot steps coming down the stairs. Willie rounded the
    corner at light-speed followed by Marie-Claire who was lagging a little
    behind. 
            "HEY HEY Dief," Willie said half laughing"you must not be feeling
    yourself today. You let a little thing like a door stop ya." Making a
    half growl half barking sound Dief let it be known he did not appreciate
    this bit of scarasm.
    
            Marie-Claire had caught up to the duo by this point rubbing her
    leg and wondering what she had set herself up for. She approached Dief,
    knelt down in front of him and cupped his muzzle between her hands.
    
            "Dief, listen, I would really like to go on a walk with you-not
    a track and field event.  So here's the deal.  If you want me to go with
    you and Willie you're gonna have to slow down the pace. O.K.. It's up
    to you." 
            Marie-Claire opened the door slowly waiting for Dief to go charging
    out. He slowly stood up, walked out the door then turned and waited until
    a stunned Willie and Marie-Claire followed.
    
            "Damn! Dief usually doesn't listen very well to anyone except
    Fraser, and that's not even all the time. How did you do that?" an amazed
    Willie asked.
    
            "I gave him a choice"replied Marie-Claire not totally believing
    it herself.
    
            As they proceeded down the street towards the park Willie started
    the third degree. Firing question after question at Marie-Claire. 
            "Do you work?  Why are you home during the day?.  Can I come
    to the radio station and watch?"
    
            Marie-Claire answered these questions as quickly as Willie could
    ask them. When the questions turned personal though,MC turned the tables
    and began her own barrage of questioning.
    
            "Are you going to be a reporter when you grow up?,Why aren't
    you home doing your homework? and"How did you get hooked up with Constable
    Fraser?"
    
            Willie spouted his entire life story sans his somewhat less than
    legal exploits that landed him in Frasers' company. Marie-Claire, being
    the seasoned journalist that she was noticed his avoidance of the question
    regarding the origins of his relationship with the mountie and made a
    mental note to explore this later.
    
            By the time they reached the park  Marie-Claires' leg was killing
    her.  She swore to herself that she would start working out to gain more
    stamina, then started scoping out the park in search of a bench.  At
    this point Dief was a little antsy.  Trotting was not his long-suit,
    he needed to RUN.
    
    Willie sensed this and asked Marie-Claire "Do you think you could tell
    Dief it's OK to run now.  He likes to chase the birds and squirrels for
    a while.  Then we get a snack and go home."
    
            "Are you sure he isn't going to run away or eat a bird or squirrel?"
    asked MC as visions of this unpleasant sight danced in her mind.
    
            "Come on.  We do thsi all the time.  Trust me."  Willie beamed.
    
            "Trust you, huh?"  Marie-Claire asked somewhat doubtfully.  "If
    you're wrong- you're on your own- understand?"  Willy nodded.
    
            Marie-Claire looked at Dief and said, "Go ahead and terrorize
    the wildlife, but stay within eye-shot, OK?"  Dief gave an affirmative
    groan and took off.
    
             He ran around as happy as a clam in high tide for about half
    an hour then returned to the bench and sat down as if to say he was ready
    to go.  Marie-Claire and Willie were having a nice chat about music.
    She was actually getting an education on hip-hop rap.  Though she would
    never admit this to Willie, he suspected and was surprised that she seemed
    truly interested in what he had to say.  MC had won her ally.
    
            "I guess it's snack time."  MC said as she stood.  "Where to?
    I could use something myself."
    
            "Nielsens.  Mr.N always has stuff for us.  Although Dief gets
    more than I do.  Mr. N says it's because he's a growing wolf."
            MC looked at Dief and said to herself, "I hope not."
    
            They made it to Neilsens in short order and true to form Mr.
    Nielsen was more than generous with his daily rations to Willie and Dief
    and after a proper introduction and some minor flirtations MC received
    an eclair that would make her cholesterol count move up a few points.
    
            Marie Claire checked her watch and wondered at how time always
    flew.  She knew she would never get enough sleep before she had to go
    into the station.  Oh well, she lamented, it wouldn't be the first time.
    
            "Is there a grocery store nearby Willie?  I need to get a few
    things."  she asked.
    
            "Yeah, it's on the way.  You haven't met Dave or Bob yet?" Willie
    asked with a sly grin.
            "No, who are Dave and Bob?" Marie-Claire asked.
    
            "Well, it's kinda hard to explain but Dave and Bob are sorta
    the same guy."  Willie feebly replied.
            "How can Dave AND Bob be the same person Willie?"
    
            "It's something to do with the rain.  When it rains he's Bob
    and you really don't want to get him riled, but if it's nice, he's Dave
    and he's real nice.  It's something Fraser called weather sensitive or
    something.  I don't know.  I just know we all go into the store to see
    which one he is so we know what kinda day it's gonna be."
    
            MC just stood there looking at Willie and wondered about the
    neighborhood she had chosen to live in and shook her head.  A mountie
    with a wolf, a baker who was contributing to the delinquency of everyones'
    arteries, a grocer who was "weather sensitive" and rats so big they should
    help pay the rent.  She thought to herself, "if I can just get a handle
    on it, there just might be a book in all of this."
    
            "OK Willie, let's go meet this Dave or Bob, or whoever he is
    today. I have to get home and get some sleep."
    
            "It'll be Dave today - no rain."  Willie stated confidently as
    they made their way to the store.
    
            In the store Marie-Claire couldn't help but stare at Dave/Bob
    wondering if Willie was just feeding her a line.  He seemed like a regular
    guy.  Dave noticed her staring and began to wonder if something was wrong.
    
            "Excuse me Miss, but is everything alright?" Dave inquired. 
    An embarrassed MC replied,
            "Oh, yes, umm, I umm was looking for the umm cereal."
            "Aisle 3." Dave instructed.
    
            "Thank you." MC said and headed for aisle 3 feeling pretty stupid,
    mainly because she hated cereal and now felt obligated to buy a box.
    She picked the closest box - Captain Crunch - and headed for the dairy/produce
    section to get what she originally came in for.  At the checkout counter
    Dave introduced himself.
    
            "I don't think we've met.  I'm Dave.  Are you new to the neighborhood?"
    
            "Yes, I've just moved in.  I'm Marie-Claire. Nice to meet you."
    
             "Captain Crunch. You like that kiddie stuff, huh?"  Dave observed
    brightly.
    
            "Oh, that's just a umm, snack."  MC absently replied.  As Dave
    was ringing up her total she noticed a very large brass barometer hanging
    behind the counter next to the matching clock.  They seemed out of place
    in the little gray toned, flourescent lit store.  She noticed that Dave
    tended to glance in that direction quite often.  Was he looking at the
    clock or....
    
            "Your total is $23.10." Dave informed her.  But MC was busy trying
    to figure out if there was any connection between the barometer and the
    Dave/Bob story and didn't hear him.
    
            "Marie-Claire, are you ok?  You seem a little distracted?" 
            "Sorry.  Sleep deprivation I guess.  I work nights and  sometimes
    I don't get enough sleep, like today.  How much do I owe?"  MC said as
    she shot a look at Willie and Dief who were waiting by the door for her.
    
            "23.10."  Dave reiterated.  MC handed ove rthe cash, thanked
    Dave and picked up her bags and headed for the door.  Once outside MC
    said to Willy,        "He seems like a nice man."
    
            "Yeah, cause he's Dave.  Wait till it rains."  Willie warned.
    
            "Willie, I don't know when to take you seriously." MC said as
    they headed home.
    
    "Look!  As a landlord you owe your tenants certain obligations."
    
            Fraser looked up from the newspaper he was reading.  Dief was
    curled up under the window, his tail thumping up and down.  For some
    peculiar reason, the usually ravenous wolf had completely lost his appetite.
    
            Ben might have been worried if the wolf had appeared listless,
    but Dief seemed cheerful enough, even if he did lift his muzzle most
    aristocratically at the meal Ben has prepared so painstakingly.
    
            "Have you been having snacks between meals and ruining your appetite?"
    Ben demanded of his companion who snorted and gave a rather doggy grin
    which was a little below his usual dignity.
    
            The angry voice coming through the door from the hallway had
    distracted him from the very interesting editorial about the US's use
    of Intellectual Property rights in the Uruguay Round as the sign of a
    flailing nation attempting to reassert its hegemonic status.
    
            He had followed the Uruguay Round Outcomes with much interest.
    
            He opened the door and saw his new neighbour standing nose to
    nose with Argyle the scruffy landlord with his lank hair, vacuous expression
    and snuffly features.
    
            He still didn't know her name.  She hadn't put her name on her
    mailbox.  She'd been there two weeks now and they occasionally passed
    each other in the corridor but she never acknowledged his presence. 
    She came home at unearthly hours of the morning, he'd heard music sifting
    through from her room.....an eclectic mix.  Anything from Christine Lavin
    to Ella Fitzgerald and once the Rankin Family which had made him think
    about Canada.
            "May I offer my assistance?" he requested courteously.
            "No!" both of them said, turning to him simultaneously.
    
            "I already told you, the rent only covers...." the landlord began
    to whine.
    
            "You told me that the rent didn't cover utilities -- so I paid
    extra -- I almost froze my butt off that first night....there was no
    electricity."
            "I connected it for you, didn't I?"
    
            "Only after I threatened to sue you." she bit back, an accent
    creeping into her voice with her anger.  "And what about those syringes
    I found in the cupboard?"
    
            "OK, OK, so the place used to be a hang out for crackheads and
    smack dealers....they paid good rent...." he said defensively,"Then the
    mountie put them out of business."
    
            "Trade in illicit narcotics is a crime." Fraser said implacably.
    
            "You didn't bother to tidy up -- what if I'd stabbed myself?"
    Marie-Claire demanded.
    
            She looked tired, Ben thought as he studied her pale face.  The
    dark auburn hair was pulled back tightly from her face and there were
    shadows under her dark green eyes which hinted at lack of sleep or restless
    nights.
    
            She was five foot six, of medium build, but somehow there was
    an air of fragility about her which made her seem much slighter and more
    delicate.  An impression immediately dispelled when she grabbed the landlord
    by the collar and jerked him onto his toes,
    
            "OK, I'm giving you one last warning - either get those rats
    out of my place, or I'm calling in the exterminators and slapping you
    with the bill."
    
            "Hey, hey!  Isn't this assault or something?  Arrest her!" the
    landlord said accusingly to Ben.
    
            "You seem to forget, sir, that I am not a policeman here in the
    United States.  This is not actually my jurisdiction.  Perhaps back in
    the Yukon where I am an actively serving member of the police force,
    I might have powers to exercise, but here  I find myself as an ordinary
    citizen." 
            The landlord was still dangling on tip-toe.  "OK, OK, I'll get
    rid of the rats.  What's the problem?  Don't you like rats?"
    
            "I don't like rodents....especially of the homo sapien kind,"
    she said and released him.
            "Umm, excuse me Miss....." Ben said stepping forward.
    
            "Bird, Big Bird." she said and limped back into her room and
    slammed the door shut.
    
            A muffled squawk was heard from the interior and the door was
    flung open and a huge, healthy rat with gleaming fur came scuttling out
    of 3K in a drunken fashion, weaving in somewhat erratic circles as it
    stumbled left, right, evaded Ben's feet and hurtled down the hall.  It's
    progress was followed closely by a grubby looking sneaker.
    
            Ben bent over gingerly picked up the sneaker.  He handed it back
    to its owner who took it from him,
            "Thanks." the door slammed shut in his face.
            He sighed.
    
            Fraser breathed deeply of the polluted air, filling his lungs
    with the carcinogenic fumes and exhaled again as he strode to work.
    
            "Good morning Steve," he greeted the young Croatian boy who was
    looking decidedly upset.  "Is something the matter?" he asked, stopping
    by the boy with the spiky hair and pale gold ear ring gleaming in his
    left ear lobe.
            "Lost my cat." the boy said laconically.
            "Was he registered?"
            "She.  No, she wasn't registered.  Da says he's probably
    dead......squashed by a car or something."
    
            "Cats often have a habit of straying away, perhaps she'll return
    soon." 
            "Na, Megadeath never got lost.  She was tough." He slouched beside
    Ben, tucking his hands into his slouch jeans and chewed on his lip, trying
    not to look upset.
    
            "Guys at school said she probably got poisoned....one kid's dog
    got poisoned and its guts were eaten from the inside out."  The expression
    on Steve's face was an odd mixture of distress and morbid fascination.
    
            "I promise I'll keep a look out." Ben said and Steve shrugged,
    
            "Maybe I'll get an axolotl this time." he said and walked away.
    Two mysteries, he thought to himself as he headed towards work, his gaze
    steady.  Diefenbaker's strange lack of appetite, and now Steve's cat.
    Perhaps he could post notices around the neighbourhood......
    
            Marie-Claire put a few quarters into the machine and waited,
    feeling the floor thrum beneath her feet as her laundry whirred around
    rhythmically.
    
            A woman she had passed several times in the past few weeks entered
    the laundry carrying a heavy load of laundry.  She was was a petite woman
    with cropped dark brown hair and very steady eyes.
    
            She looked to be in her late twenties and there was a very no-nonsense
    manner about her and she was dressed conservatively, but very stylishly
    in designer jeans and a deep emerald green sweater with a fine, subtle
    pattern.
    
            She looked very trim, very fit and energetic and despite her
    lack of inches, she carried the heavy load easily and set it down smoothly.
    
            Marie-Claire smiled at her in greeting and said aloud,"Are you
    a nurse?" 
            She found herself staring down into a pair of eyes which in this
    light appeared to be green, although when the woman smiled, they deepened
    to hazel.
    
            "Yes I am, how did you know?" the woman asked in a clear, friendly
    voice.
    
            "Something about the way you lift and put things down - and your
    hands." 
            The woman looked down at her hands and laughed ruefully,"Ah,
    washerwoman's hands."
    
            Her hands were square and very capable-looking; they were hands
    accustomed to hard work.
    
            "Not at all - but they're good strong hands." Marie-Claire told
    her. 
            The woman stuck out her small, but very strong hand, "Pleased
    to meet you, I'm Elena Curran."
    
            Marie-Claire automatically shook her hand.  "Marie-Claire Dempsey."
    she responded.
    
            "I've passed you a few times," the woman said calmly,"And wondered
    who you were.  The Nguyens have mentioned you and so have some of the
    other occupants of the building. I don't actually live here myself."
            Elena began loading the laundry into the machine.
    
            Marie-Claire didn't know what was expected of her from this extraordinary
    little women so she said nothing, only eyed the load of washing curiously.
    Elena continued,
    
            "I'm a public health nurse, working on a NIH - that's the National
    Institute of Health grant at the neighbourhood clinic.  I make home visits
    to my clients in the neighbourhood as well as my work at the clinic -
    I'm just popping by out of hours to see how Mrs Nguyen's been.  I know
    she's been a little stressed lately and it's not good considering that
    the baby's going to be born soon - I find out that the laundry hasn't
    been done for week!
    
            It turns out her husband's too busy, and old Mrs Nguyen is bed-ridden,
    poor thing. It was all I could do to get Mrs Nguyen to stop working at
    the restaurant let alone stay off her feet."
            "I see." Marie-Claire said.
            Elena's shrewd eyes studied Marie-Claire's deliberately
    unexpressive face, took in the shadows in the girl's eyes and spoke again,
    
            "How long have you had that limp, Marie-Claire?  This is a medical
    query not a personal one," she said when she saw Marie-Claire's face
    close over.
    
            The machines whirred loudly in the background as the two woman
    talked. 
            "A little over sixteen months."
            "Have you ever undergone any physical therapy?"
    
            "I haven't had the time - I have to pay the bills somehow." she
    was infinitely annoyed to be justifying herself to a perfect stranger,
    even a friendly person such as Elena.
    
            "I thought so," Elena said shaking her head,"The limp doesn't
    have to be so pronounced, you know."
    
            "Tell me something, Elena, but is everyone in this neighbourhood
    a good samaritan?" Marie-Claire demanded a little waspishly and Elena
    laughed, genuinely amused, her generous mouth pulling into a delighted
    grin,
    
            "Ahhh, I see you've met our favourite mountie.  You don't like
    him?" 
            "I have no opinion on him."
    
            Elena shrugged,"He's a beautiful human being -turned this place
    around.  I've never met a man with such an innate sense of fairness and
    duty.....I see him as a semi-tragic figure."
    
            "Tragic?  Comic is the word in that preposterous uniform of his."
    
            The smile played around Elena's lips,"Everyone has a story, Marie-Claire
    - a past which shapes the person we are today.  Whether you like that
    person or not, it's usually best not to pass judgment until you have
    discovered that story.  All I'm saying is that someone like Benton doesn't
    just appear.....something has shaped him, tempered him into the person
    he is today.  I always assume that perhaps he has suffered a great hurt...."
    she smiled in embarrassment,"I know, despite my unromantic exterior,
    I must confess I'm a romantic at heart, in fact my weirdest fantasy is....oh
    never mind that.
    
            About Benton, he's introduced me to a great many of my patients
    - and I often request his company when I'm afraid that I might meet with
    a difficult reception from the homes I visit."
    
            "Obviously we have a new saint among us." Marie-Claire said ironically.
    She had heard how wonderful this famous mountie was from virtually everyone
    in the neighbourhood and was beginning to feel decidedly out of sorts.
    
            "Oh he's definitely mortal like the rest of us," Elena said soberly,
    the smile fading from her eyes.  Without the smile, it was possible to
    notice the fine tracery of lines around her expressive eyes, and the
    glints of silver in her cropped hair.
    
            Her face was young and old at the same time and it was clear
    that despite her optimism, the woman had not had an easy life.
    
            "He has feelings...he can be hurt, I never forget that...." her
    voice faded away a little and then she smiled again,"Here I am gossipping."
    She laughed at herself, smiled serenely at the young woman with the defiant
    green eyes and the sulky mouth.
    
            Marie-Claire began to reload her washing into her basket to carry
    outside.
    
            Elena spoke again,"Life's never easy for any of us.  When I was
    a little girl my mother had a favourite poem she would read us by Edgar
    Lee Masters about Lucinda Matlock and the last part always sticks in
    my head -I keep it with me like a talisman:
    
    'At 96 I had lived enough, that is all,
    And passed to a sweet repose.
    What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
    Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?...."
    
            She didn't have the chance to finish because Marie-Claire interrupted
    curtly,"Yes, I know this 'Degenerate sons and daughters, Life is too
    strong for you - It takes life to love Life.'"
            "I didn't mean to offend you, Marie-Claire."
    
            "That's all right," Marie-Claire said with difficulty, picking
    up her basket.  "It was nice to meet you."
    
            She walked from the laundry.  Poetry-quoting nurses, deaf wolves,
    non-delinquent street kids, tragic mounties.....she felt like she was
    in a Fellini movie, all that was missing was a midget and a maniacal
    clown. 
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART C
    
            "I told Jim that he should back off with the gym rubbish." Harold
    said irritably, glaring at the phone.  "The man should accept he's forty
    - not a gym jock anymore."
    
            The room was crowded, papers falling from Hal's desk onto the
    ground.  There was a mug of coffee on his desk.  Legend had it that that
    very same cup had been placed there ten years ago when he had taken over
    as manager of AIR105.
    
            The contents had long-ago congealed and were covered with a fine
    layer of dust, ash and rapidly multiplying micro-organisms.  Sometimes
    when he was in the midst of a tirade, he would pick up the mug as if
    to take a swallow from it.  Staff always watched wistfully....the cup
    was at his lips....but at the last minute he always set it down and they
    would sigh regretfully.  Maybe next time.
    
             "What seems to be the problem?" Marie-Claire asked inquiringly
    as she looked up from her notes.  She sat in the "newsroom" across the
    corridor.  It consisted of a tiny box with bars in the windows, half
    a dozen empty mugs on the sill and two chairs and a table over which
    she was draped.
    
            "I don't like the preachy bit at the end," she told Susan Power,
    one of her colleagues who shrugged and scrubbed out the little quote
    from the Bible.  It had seemed appropriate at the time.
    
            Harold threw himself into a chair and glowered impressively.
    The door to his office opened onto the door to the newsroom.  His door
    was always open,
    
            "I'm always in touch with my people!  Available!  Accessible!"
    he would declaim at his monthly meetings which he held once a year or
    after he was inspired by a motivational theme on Oprah or Donehue.
    
            "What do you think?  There is our hero at the gym, pumping iron,
    a pretty girl walks past and he immediately piles the weights on and
    starts showing off."
    
            "Ouch, you mean he's pulled something?" Marie-Claire asked sympathetically,
    tossing aside various articles until she found the one she was looking
    for.  She pulled the clip from her hair, re-fastened it, this time more
    tightly.
    
            She often wondered whether it was possible to be allergic to
    your own hair.
    
            She rather liked Jim Alderman, he was good-natured and cheerful.
    
            "He's in the O.R. with a hernia." Harold said sourly.
    
            "I can feel a shift swap coming on," Susan muttered, making herself
    scarce and Harold glowered,
    
            "Ungrateful cow - I trained her....raised her from when she was
    nothing......."
    
            "You make her sound like a dog or a prize horse," Marie-Claire
    said dryly, cutting him off.  If allowed to continue, he would have given
    the same speech they all received - a play in which Harold was cast as
    the wronged mentor Obi-Wan-Kenobi while all of his disobedient pupils
    turned to the Dark Side.
    
            Harold smiled seraphically,"Plans for the evening, MC?" he asked
    her and she sighed.
    
            "Harold, I covered for Jody last week - you know I hate doing
    that bright and perky routine."
    
            "I'll say," Harold said shaking his head,"You talked about Nietzche,
    the Realpolitik and Kierkegaard - thoroughly depressed the hell out of
    the listeners.  One guy called up threatening to commit suicide after
    you read out that passage about men being brutish, solitary and short."
    
            "The LIFE of man is brutish, solitary and short in a state of
    nature," she corrected automatically, and that guy threatens to commit
    suicide even during Mavis's Household Hints Hour."
            "As I was saying......"
            "And I hate the playlist, Hal - Michael Bolton, Phil
    Collins......Elton John....Mariah bloody Carey..."
    
            Harold winced, he still remembered the barrage of protests the
    station had received after the listeners had heard Marie-Claire muttering
    after the Michael Bolton song,'How am I supposed to live without you?'
    -- "Don't bother - drop dead, see if I care?"
    
            The only reason he kept her on was because she was good at her
    job. She was punctual, her writing was never flabby, her voice was clear
    and precise.....she was a good newsreader.  Breakfast radio was definitely
    not her scene.  He certainly wouldn't repeat that experiment twice in
    a row. 
            "Oh yeah, and then there's always the staple Joshua Kadison,
    and hell, if we get bored, I can always play "The Rose" and we can all
    cry together." Marie-Claire continued.
    
            "I get the point, MC.  And you know damned well that the playlist
    is the way it is is because those singers are the top sellers - we play
    what people want to hear."
    
            "That's right," Marie-Claire declaimed dramatically,"The best
    of the seventies, eighties and nineties.....a dozen songs in all, why
    has musical history been so arid?"
    
            "I'm not going to argue with you, MC."  His left eyeball began
    twitching erratically as he glared at her.  It was a weird habit and
    always fascinated Marie-Claire who wondered whether it would ever pop
    out of the socket and how it managed to wobble without making the other
    eyeball wobble.
    
            He refuse to get it surgically corrected, muttering something
    about the sacred temple of his optical orb.
    
            "Stop looking at my eye!" he bellowed and she looked at him repentantly,
    he wasn't a bad employer even if his favourite singer was Michael Bolton.
    He was a definite improvement over some of her employers in the past.
            "You're covering for Jim until further notice."
    
            "Hal - I'm here from four in the afternoon - slaving away over
    the news I might add.....I don't get home until the wee small hours of
    the morning....I can't possible take on hsi shift as well."
            'I'm taking you off news for now, Susan can handle it."
    
            "I am NOT doing Jim's lonely hearts show."  Jim, despite being
    fortyish, paunchy, jowley and homely looking had the sexy, exciting young
    voice of a twenty-year old stud.
    
            "Baby, are you lonesome tonight...." she purred in a creditable
    imitation of Jim at his worst,"If I could touch your cheek....you'd not
    be lonely no more....call now, tell Jim all your probs....." she said
    huskily. 
            Hal drummed his fingers on the table.  He could never figure
    out why drumming one's fingers on the table was considered a sign of
    deep thought.  He could never quite establish whether he was supposed
    to drum from left to right, or vice versa.  In the end he gave up and
    just tapped his fingers on the wood.
    
            "You get a free rein, MC.  That's what you're angling for, isn't
    it?" he challenged, his dark eyes gleaming.
    
            She smiled faintly,"I can say anything I want?  Play anything
    I want?" 
            "Within reason," he temporised,"Ten to two am may not be the
    most family listening time - but we don't want to offend any of those
    insomniac oldies."
            Marie-Claire put her pen down, pursing her lips.
            "Is this a good time to ask you for a raise?"
            "Get out of here Dempsey."
            She sighed.
    
    Ray collected Fraser from the front of the Consulate.  "It was very kind
    of your mother to invite me to dinner, Ray."
    
            Ray scowled as his mobile phone rang.  "Yeah mom, I know!  I've
    got the eggplant....but Jesus, do I have to?  You know it gives me gas....ahhh
    FIFI???"
    
            At the Check It Out Corner Convenience Late Store Ray and Fraser
    wandered around the aisles in search of the elusive eggplant.  Dave waved
    hi in an amiable fashion.
    
            "Obviously it won't be raining  in the next few days." Fraser
    commented. 
            "Knock it off, Fraser, you don't believe that oldwive's tale
    do you?  The guy's a kook - he's got a personality disorder.  He should
    be locked up or at least doped on prozac."
    
            "He's harmless, Ray, and there have been many instances in history
    of humans who are weather sensitive, why my own grandfather's left toe
    would always ache when a storm was imminent.  And it's also a popular
    misconception that Prozac is an anti-psychotic medication.  Actually
    its a serotonin reuptake inhibitor anti-depressant, so it would do nothing
    for psychotic ideation."
    
            "Yeah right, the guy's just watched Sybil too many times." Ray
    said emphatically.
            "Ray,....that's her." Ben said in an undertone.
            "Who, my mom?" Ray demanded, looking around in a panic.
            "No....my neighbour!"
            "The dog....Ms Winnebago...."
            "She's not a dog, Ray." Ben said reproachfully.
    
            Ray shrugged, "If you'd just done as I told you and reported
    her like I said....you'd know her name, past, marital status....."
    
            The two of them peered around the pet food aisle, their eyes
    intent on the young woman standing by the dairy products cooler.    She
    was picking up various containers of what appeared to be cream, shaking
    it slightly, listening intently, a frown on her brows as she put it down
    and then picked up the next one.
            "What do you suppose she's doing?" Ben asked, mystified.
    
            Ray was more blase about it, "I hardly think you're in the position
    to judge, Benny, someone who puts diseased horse meat on his face is
    not in the position to knock a girl because she likes listening to cream.
    She's probably listening to see what kind of grass the cow ate....or
    whether the cow had any relatives...."
            "Ray, I hardly think....."
    
            But Ray was enjoying himself, "No hell, maybe she wants to find
    out the cow's favourite TV shows....you know, like Burke's Law....Jake
    and the Fatman."
    
            "Ray...." Ben said evenly, "You know just as well as I do, that
    that's impossible."
            "Why is that impossible?" Ray wanted to know.
            "No one watches Jake and the Fatman."
            "Even in Canada?" Ray demanded.
            "Even in Canada."
    
            "Well whadya know?" Ray said cheerfully, "We have something in
    common after all."
    
            He studied her narrowly, taking in the faded jeans, oversized
    man's shirt and loosely tied back hair.
            "She's not a dog, Benny."
            "I told you."
    
            "But she's also no babe......" Ray said with the air of  a connoisseur.
    
            If it had been anyone else apart from Ben, he would have looked
    annoyed.  As it was, he looked patient.  "Ray, you know how I don't like
    it when you use such blatantly discriminatory terms. I find them
    unilluminating, unhelpful and more than a little offensive"
    
            "But she is kinda cute.....in a non-babe way," Ray mused, "Not
    my type....but I'm always here for my pals," he said and strolled forward.
    
            Marie-Claire was picking up the final container of cream and
    shaking it discreetly when a dark-haired man with a broad smile approached
    her.
    
            He wore a garishly coloured shirt which billowed around his narrow
    frame.  His baggy trousers fell around very polished shoes and he had
    a chunky gold chain around his neck.  He reminded her of a rather benign
    looking frog.
    
            The smile was irresistible, though, it invited one to smile in
    agreement, even though one had no idea what he might be smiling about.
    
            A suave opening remark had been on his lips, but it died as he
    stared into her very dark green eyes.  Those witch's eyes could see into
    a man's soul and he had a horrible suspicion that she knew that he had
    been guilty of dumping his trash in his neighbour's trashcan to save
    having to take out the trash himself the day before.
            "Hello," he said cheerfully.  "Stereo broken?"
    
            Marie-Claire looked down at the cream she was holding in her
    hand and laughed.
    
            "Actually....I know it sounds a bit silly...but I've bought this
    really delicious blackberry and apple pie from Nielson's......and I wanted
    to buy that really thick cream....you know the stuff which has the consistency
    of plaster of Paris?"
    
            "I know the one," Ray said sagely, "Shaking's the way to go -
    but you can't just do it delicately." he told her.
    
            "Really?" she demanded, in fascination.  He nodded emphatically.
    
            "Let's be practical. I'm an expert at this, my ma sends me on
    errands all the time." he told her with an air of confidentiality. 
            "Is she a good cook?" Marie-Claire asked.
            "The best."
    
            "My mum was a horrible cook," Marie-Claire said with a reminiscent
    laugh.  They both stared at the shelf.
            "So, what have we got?" he demanded.
    
            She read the different names aloud, "Double Cream, Thickened
    Cream, Double Thick Cream, Light Double Thick Cream, Thickened Double
    Light cream, Double Dollop Thick Cream, Double Thickened Reduced Cream
    and Aunt Mary McGregor's Creamy Cream."
    
            "Exactly - how's a guy to tell?  You don't do it by listening...."
    he reached out, grabbed one and shook it once in his hand, "You see?
    You can feel the cream moving."
    
            He handed it to her and she shook it once, nodding judiciously.
    "That's not the right one, then."
    
            They shook a few more, "Aha!" Ray exclaimed in glee, making everyone
    in the store turn around and stare at him except Dave who was busy debating
    the merits of home delivery with a customer.
    
            "You see - this one doesn't move at all.....solid as plaster
    of paris," he said exultantly.
    
            She took the container from him, smiling at him.  It was a brilliant
    smile, he noted immediately and smoothed away the gravity from her young
    face.  It was also a smile which discouraged flirtation but encouraged
    a warm friendliness instead.
    
            Her dark eyes were actually a very dark, deep shade of green,
    thickly lashed and intelligent and set below strongly-marked brows. 
            Her chin was pointed, her hair a rich dark auburn and her skin
    pale and creamy.  When she smiled, a dimple appeared in her left cheek
    which gave her smile a peculiarly lop-sided charm.  There was nothing
    beautiful about this face, her jaw looked stubborn, her eyes were too
    clear and willful, but there was a wealth of charm and intelligence and
    he grinned at her.
    
            "The name's Raymond Vecchio," he said extending his hand. 
            "Marie-Claire Dempsey, pleased to meet you," she said pleasantly,
    shaking his hand in a firm grip.
    
            Her eyes flickered momentarily to the pet food aisle where the
    brim of a large hat was protruding from around the corner.
    
            "Is he listening for caribou or just eavesdropping?" she queried
    dryly. 
            Ray cleared his throat, "Ahh, he's just communing with the Puppy
    Chomps.....makes him feel at one with nature."
    
            'I see." Marie-Claire said wisely, her smile tugging irresistibly
    at the corners of her full-mouth.
            "Perhaps you'd like to meet him....." Ray suggested.
    
            "No thanks, red gives me severe urticaria." she said flippantly.
    "It was nice to meet you.  I'd better be going."
    
            She walked to the checkout and Ray returned to where Ben was
    standing beside the cat litter and hissed,        "Urticaria?"
            "Hives." Ben said helpfully.
    
            "You had a dozen opportunities to come out and introduce yourself!
    There are no doors around here!  The worst she could have done was stick
    a salami in your face - and it's not as if that would be unbearable in
    the light of what else you've stuck in your face.  His voice altered
    momentarily, "You didn't tell me she was lame."
            "She's not lame...she has a limp."
    
            "Pretty bad limp, but she seems like a nice girl," he said judiciously.
    "Can you tag the accent?"
            "She's Canadian."
    
            "How do you know that?  I couldn't tell." Ray said as they walked
    to the checkout, aubergine in hand.
            "Good evening, Dave." Ben said pleasantly.
    
            "'evenin', Fraser." Dave said cheerfully, "What can I do you
    for tonight?" he asked.
    
            "Just the eggplant." Ray said putting the vegetable down on the
    counter.  The three of them watched as the counter hesitated and then
    propelled the vegetable slowly and inexorably to the spot in front of
    Dave. 
            "She said 'mum'." Ben said aloud.
    
            "So?  That doesn't mean anything - lots of people say mum.  Her
    accent didn't sound like anything familiar."
            "It's a very neutral accent," Ben agreed.
    
            "I noticed that, too," Dave said conversationally, "It could
    be as a result of moving around a lot as a child.  I've noticed that
    people who speak a lot of languages, or studied at those international
    schools - tend to have less distinguishable accents.  In fact, my friend
    Bob tells me the same thing."
            Ray couldn't restrain himself, "Dave, you ARE Bob."
    
            Dave looked tolerantly at Ray before grinning at Fraser, "You're
    friend's a real comedian, isn't he?"
    
            Ben said nothing but as the two walked outside, Ray threw up
    his hands, careful not to relinquish his firm grip on the aubergine,
    "I'll bet you regret not letting me take her in, now." Ray said jokingly.
            "With a name like Marie-Claire.....perhaps she's a
    French-Canadian," he mused.  "But then wouldn't she have said maman....or
    mama?"
    
            "Should we plan for an exodus.....two Canadians in your slum
    building....anymore and we could have a ghetto on our hands.  Come on,
    we've got the eggplant....let's go and get your wolf."
    
            It was 2:30am a restless night in the city. Planes seemed to
    be flying lower than usual, wailing sirens could be heard in the distance
    almost continuously, and a never ending parade of vehicles seemed to
    be going by on the street below.
    
            All of this & more were being incorporated into Fraser's' dreams.
    These sounds & a not so subconscious longing for his beloved Yukon, transformed
    his dreams into something that resembled film-noir.
    
            A loud crash & an ear splitting screech or was it a scream, awoke
    Fraser rudely out of his sleep. He laid there with his heart racing,
    not knowing if this was real or part of his wistful dreams. Ears straining
    for anything out of the ordinary, he waited in the dark.
    
            There it was again. It was more like a screech but this time
    it sounded muffled. He sprang up, ran to the window & scanned the alley
    below. Two people could be seen struggling with....in the darkness he
    couldn't quite make out what it was. He raised the window which always
    made the awful wood on warped wood sound. This alerted the people below
    who immediately looked in his direction.
    
            "Excuse me. "Fraser called out. He did not understand what was
    shouted back as he proceeded out unhesitatingly on to his fire escape
    and began climbing down to investigate, with Dief bringing up the rear.
    
            The smaller of the 2 figures started to run away ,as the larger
    one yelled something else Ben did not understand. Then he too ran away.
    
            By the time Ben & Dief reached the ground they had vanished.
    Fraser proceeded to the end of the alley to see what he could find, but
    they were long gone & besides, he wasn't exactly dressed for a foot race.
    Then he heard Dief growling & barking. He turned to see the wolf pacing
    around very agitated and fixated on something between 2 dumpsters.
    
            Fraser double-timed it to Dief.  Cautiously he approached the
    spot which held Dief's attention. Looking down he saw a black canvas
    bag, almost invisible in the dim alley light. As he approached the bag
    it moved & then moved again as if alive.
    
            Fraser reached for the bag & very gently opened it - when a large
    cat jumped out. The cat hit the ground, took one look at Dief & jumped
    with startling accuracy into Fraser's arms. Not expecting this, Fraser
    stood there holding the cat dumb-founded.
    
            "What the hell is going on out here?" a familiar female voice
    from the shadows demanded.  "I'm getting pretty tired of being awoken
    in..." the voice trailed off as she approached Fraser & Dief.  "It's
    you again!  Don't you ever sleep?" Marie-Claire inquired.
    
            "Well yes, actually I was asleep when..." an embarrassed Fraser
    began, but Marie-Claire cut him off before he could finish.
    
            "I don't think I've ever seen a Mountie in his PJ's in an alley
    with a cat stuck to his chest before.  Do you do this often or are you
    perhaps sleepwalking?"
            "Sleepwalking? No I heard..."
            Marie-Claire moved closer to Fraser to pet the cat.
    
            "I'll bet this kitty knows the REAL story.  May I?" Marie-Claire
    asked as she reached out to take the cat.
    
            "Certainly" replied Fraser handing the cat to Marie-Claire. The
    cat seemed to take to Marie-Claire immediately.  "You seem to have made
    a friend." Fraser observed.
    
            "Do you know who he belongs to?" Marie-Claire asked as she stroked
    the cats ear.
    
            "No I think he's a stray.  In fact someone had put him in this
    bag." said Ben holding up the black bag.
            "Who would do that and why?"
    
            "I don't know.  They ran away before I could find out." Fraser
    explained.
    
            "So what are you going to do with him?" Marie-Claire demanded.
    
            "The cat?" he questioned.
             Marie-Claire shot him a look, "Yes, the cat!"
    
             "I hadn't really thought about it.  He's a stray.  Perhaps I
    should take him to a shelter."
    
             Marie-Claire's voice went up at least an octave.  "A SHELTER!
    ARE YOU NUTS? If he isn't claimed or adopted in a week it's adios and
    off to the great litter box in the sky.  NO! NOT A SHELTER.  Why don't
    you take him--you found him."
    
            "Me? Umm, I don't think he would approve of Diefenbaker."  he
    temporized.
    
            They both looked at Dief, who had this odd glint in his eyes.
    
            "No, perhaps you're right."  Marie-Claire agreed.
    
            "May I suggest perhaps that you give him a home.  I believe you
    mentioned to the landlord something about having rats.  Historically,
    cats are a very good rat deterrent." Fraser said brightly, with the air
    of having thought of something quite brilliant.
    
            "You know Mountie, you might have just hit upon a good idea."
    Marie-Claire declared as she turned and headed back towards the fire
    escape.  She looked back to see both him and Dief just looking at her.
    "Are you guys coming or are you going to camp there all night?"
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART D
    
         Morning came early after such a late night.  As Fraser dressed for
    work, he attempted to discuss with Diefenbaker the occurrences the night
    before.  Adjusting his lanyard in the mirror, he said "...and did you
    notice last night our new neighbor was friendlier?  I told you, 'you
    can attract more flies with honey than vinegar'.  It just took some time
    before she felt comfortable enough to talk with us, but by being polite
    we demonstrated that we would be accepting when she decided to talk with
    us." 
        Diefenbaker responded with a half-growl/half-whine that seemed to
    indicate disbelief on his part.
    
        "Well, think what you like"  he said.  "Willie will be by again after
    school today.  I've noticed that your appetite in the evenings has really
    decreased.  You two aren't stopping for fast food again are you?"  Fraser
    put on his hat and opened the door to leave.  "Try to save some room
    for dinner tonight, all right?  Bye."
    
        As Fraser shut his door , and he thought about stopping by to see
    how the new cat was settling in next door.
    
        While Fraser contemplated knocking, inside the apartment Marie-Claire
    was becoming slowly aware of an annoying high pitched loud noise by her
    right ear.  Then suddenly she felt something cold and wet touch her cheek.
    She opened her eyes to discover a cat hovering over her, staring intently.
    Oh, God, the cat she remembered.  She must have forgotten to close her
    bedroom door when she got back last night, she thought.
           "Meoooooow"  wailed the cat impatiently.
    
          "What?" she cried irritably.  This was a miserable way to awaken
    she thought.  She glanced over at the clock.  It read 7:06.  "Hey, kitty!
    I work nights, so I get to sleep in.  I'm not getting up."  She closed
    her eyes to go back to sleep.
    
          Before she could drift off again she felt something cold and wet
    pressing on her cheek again.  "Ok, ok.  Let me see if I can find something
    for you to eat."
    
         As she sat up in bed she noticed a lump at the foot of the bed that
    hadn't been there when she went to bed.  "AAAck"  she shrieked.  Then
    she paused.   The rat wasn't moving very fast.  Actually she noticed
    he wasn't moving at all.  The cat hopped off the bed and stood next to
    the rat and meowed loudly.  "Well, I guess I'll have to keep you now
    that you've made yourself indispensable.  Let's see what else we can
    find you for
    breakfast."
    
         As she trekked into the kitchen, there was a knock on the door.
    Who could be here at this ungodly hour of the morning she thought?  She
    opened her door to find Fraser standing in her doorway beaming.  "So
    how's the new cat working out?" he inquired cheerfully.
    
        Marie-Claire responded with a quick slam of the door.  God, the nerve
    of some people she thought, doesn't he know how early it is?  Marie-Claire
    chuckled to herself as she had an evil thought.  She went into the kitchen
    for a plastic bag.
    
        Fraser meanwhile was still standing in the doorway trying to figure
    out this new turn of events.  Based on last night, this was not the reception
    he had anticipated.  As he pondered what he might of said to offend her,
    the door opened again and Marie-Claire handed him a plastic bag with
    a suspicious looking lump in it and then she slammed the door again.
    As he walked away to dispose of her gift, he thought he heard soft laughter
    coming from behind her door.
    
    As Ray drove them down to the station, he noticed that Fraser was quieter
    than usual.  "So, Benny, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he
    quipped trying to get a rise out of Fraser.
    
          Fraser looked up quickly.  He hadn't realized how lost in his own
    thoughts he had been.  "I'm sorry Ray, I was just thinking about," he
    paused.  "about"  he paused again.
          "About what?"  Ray said impatiently.
    
         "About last night and Ms. Dempsey"  he said with an air of puzzlement.
    
          "OOOh"  Ray said excitedly.  "You got something going on with your
    new neighbor now?  Benny, I'm surprised."
    
          "No, no" Fraser corrected quickly.  "Late last night there was
    a noise in the alley and there were two people arguing, but by the time
    I got there they were gone, and all that was left was the bag."
    
         "Ah, I can see why you're upset - Late night Littering - Your neighborhood
    is really going downhill now Fraser"  Ray joked.  "So how's your neighbor
    involved?"
    
         "She came out to see what was going on as well.  And she was actually
    quite polite and pleasant when she took the cat."
    
         "Wait, a minute, what cat?"  Ray inquired.  Ray was getting the
    feeling that he was missing key parts of the story, which was something
    quite unusual for Fraser to do.  Something must really be bothering him
    he thought.
         "The cat that was in the bag of course."  Fraser answered.
    
         "Of course."  Ray said while throwing his hands in the air.  This
    story seemed to be going nowhere fast.
    
            "And who let the cat OUT of the bag?" he demanded and then decided
    it was time to get the facts and stop waiting for Fraser to bring them
    up he decided.  Facts about the neighbor for example.  "So she's not
    slamming doors anymore huh?"  Ray somewhat dejectedly spoke.  He should
    have known it was only a matter of time before this new woman was throwing
    herself at the Mountie like all the others.
         "Yes, well no."
         "Which is it Fraser?"  Ray impatiently inquired.
    
          "Well last night, Ms. Dempsey was quite pleasant to speak with
    and she took the cat graciously, however this morning when I stopped
    by to check on how she and the new cat were doing, she slammed the door
    in my face.
    
            And then she opened it to give me the dead rat.  And then she
    slammed it again.  I don't understand why there was such a change in
    her behavior this morning from last night." Fraser sounded understandably
    bewildered.
    
           "A dead RAT?"  Ray chuckled.  The more he heard about Marie-Claire
    the more he liked her.  That lady had spunk.  "Benny, the reason why
    she didn't slam a door in your face last night was because there wasn't
    a door available in the middle of the alley."
    
           At Ray's comment, Fraser looked crestfallen.  Why does he care
    what this lady thinks Ray wondered.  Ray answered his own mind's question.
    Because he cares, because he ALWAYS cares.  Ray felt badly about his
    remark and tried to turn the conversation to something lighter.  "So,
    what's the cat's name?"
          "I don't know."  Fraser replied and then he laughed.
    
           Ray joined in the laughter and said "Oh, no not this again!" 
    "So how do you propose we find out"  he said with a smile.
    
            The dog sniffed aimlessly at the various trees and garbage cans,
    fascinated by the multitude of smells.
    
            The moon was caught up in the branches of one of the trees in
    the park and gave a faintly unearthy glow which made it feel as if the
    whole world was midnight.
    
            The litter on the freshly cut grass blew here and there as the
    invisible hand of the breeze ruffled the ground.
    
            The dog's ears pricked up sharply and it sniffed the air, aware
    of an unfamiliar scent in the air.  Its eyes scanned the darkness.
    
            It could hear the sound of animals complaining, cats mewling
    and dogs barking, yet the sound was muffled.
    
            Very curiously it pottered around the corner, guided by sound
    and scent.  The little dog encountered the Cat with his majestic bearing
    and tattered ear.  The two studied each other warily and there was a
    hint of warning in the cat's gleaming eyes.  The sound of the protesting
    animals came closer and the dog hesitated, not sure if to run and humiliate
    itself before the dignified feline or to stay and risk the consequences
    of the unknown.
    
            It was a showdown of wills and the cat's stood perfectly still,
    staring implacbly into the interloper's puzzled eyes.
    
            Eventually the little dog made a low bark and ran away into the
    darkness.  There was a brief moment of triumph for the Neighbourhood
    Cat with his tattered ear and battered appearance.  He tasted the victory,
    knowing full well it was to be a brief moment of pleasure which would
    soon turn to ashes.
    
            He knew what his pride had cost him as a bag was pulled over
    his head and he was enshrouded in terrifying, suffocating blackness.
    
            "Haven't we got enough for tonight?" a voice demanded nervously.
    
            "We never have enough." another man retorted angrily,"Quit being
    so jumpy, Doug, you're getting on my nerves.  You almost let that cat
    get away."
    
            "He wasn't going anywhere," the first voice said defensively,"It
    was like he was waiting for us to get him."
    
            "You're getting paranoid - they're just animals."  He swore briefly
    as one of the Alsatians he had bagged bit him.  He kicked the dog, hearing
    it yelp in agony with a smile of cruel satisfaction.  "That's right,
    be a nasty boy - all the better." he said putting the bag in the back
    of the truck.
    
            The truck drove away into the darkness and the Neighbourhood
    Cat was jostled around in his prison of shadows and curled tighter, cursing
    his pride.
    
            Marie-Claire was walking by herself towards Dave's Check It Out
    Late Convenience Store wishing not for the first time that she was one
    of those organised people who had a shopping list prepared, rather than
    having to duck back and forth to collect items she hadn't remembered
    the last time.
    
            She walked through the doors and stared at the man standing behind
    the counter.  At first glance, she had thought that it was someone else,
    but looked again, and saw that it was Dave.  He still looked blond and
    thin, but now he had a bandanna tied around his head, his jaw was stubbled
    and he wore a khaki green shirt tucked into faded blue jeans.
    
            A studded belt was around his waist and he was scowling menacingly
    at everyone, including Marie-Claire.
    
            "Who are you?" he demanded rudely.  Before she could answer he
    spoke again. "You must be Marie-Claire," Dave/Bob said roughly, his voice
    harsh and altered.  His eyes squinted at her.  "Dave's told me about
    you." He said gruffly, nodding with his version of friendliness.
    
            "Umm, yes.....I'm Marie-Claire," she said hesitantly.  "And you
    must be...Bob?" she wondered aloud, unable to believe that she was playing
    along with him.  She tried to remember her highschool psychology and
    whether she had ever learned anything about whether it was safe to humour
    an imbalanced individual.
    
            She found her hand being seized in a strong grip and pumped up
    and down energetically,"That I am, and you're a sweet young thing for
    all your funny walk.  Dave says that you've been hanging out with that
    kid Willie, and Constable Fraser's dog."
    
            "Wolf." Marie-Claire corrected, glad to be able to talk about
    something which was anchored to reality.  "Dief's a wolf."
            Bob nodded judiciously,"What do you want?"
    
            Marie-Claire blinked at him, thinking in terms of metaphysical
    desires and aspirations, long-term goals and ambitions.  Then she realised
    he was referring to her shopping.
    
            "Oh.....I was trying to bake a cake," she said with a tentative
    smile,"And I'd beaten the eggs, but I've got no flour."
    
            Bob walked with her as she went to get the flour and regaled
    her with stories about his grand and glorious past in the merchant marines.
    
            "Constable Fraser!" Bob called out with something akin to affection
    in his rough voice.  "It's been a while."
            "That it has," Ben said, shaking hands politely with the
    shopkeeper.  "It's good to see you Sergeant Bailey.  Good evening Ms
    Dempsey," he said courteously to Marie-Claire who nodded coolly.
            "I was wondering whether you'd seen this animal?"
            He held up a photograph of Steve's cat Megadeath.
            Bob squinted at it.  "Can't say as I have."
    
            "What about this one?" Ben asked, holding up a picture of a rottweiler
    cross.
            "Nope.  Sorry." Bob said apologetically.  Ben sighed.
    
            "There's been a spate of disappearances in the neighbourhood.
    They vanish without a trace.  It's very perplexing.  I've checked the
    local pound, pet stores and gone door to door.  No one's seen or heard
    anything." 
            "Is this why you were standing in your pyjamas in the alley the
    other night?" Marie-Claire inquired against her will.
    
            Ben turned to her and nodded,"That is correct.  Unusual sounds
    awoke me from my sleep.  Unfortunately my arrival caused the unidentified
    persons to vanish into the night, leaving behind no trace except for
    your cat, and the bag - which I'm currently having analysed by the lab."
    
            Bob closed one eye reflectively, rubbed his stubbled jaw and
    said,"This reminds me of when I was in Bangkok, missing animals -  they
    turned up again mysteriously in the restaurant next door." he said and
    Marie-Claire looked extremely displeased,
            "I hope you won't go around repeating that tale, Bob."
    
            Bob shrugged,"War is hell.  Constable Fraser, did I ever tell
    you about the time when I was stranded with my men in the middle of a........."
    His voice trailed away as the two men walked back towards the counter
    and Marie-Claire was left alone.
    
            Before she could step outside there was a deafeaningly loud clap
    of thunder, the heavens opened and the rain pelted down.
    
            Her jaw dropped incredulously and she turned and looked over
    at Bob who was engaged in deep conversation with Fraser.
    
            "Do you have an umbrella, Ms Dempsey?" Fraser inquired of her
    and she shook her head, still looking outside where the rain was bucketing
    down in thick sheets.
    
            "The weather report said it would be a beautiful fine day." she
    said to Bob who shook his head and scowled menacingly,
    
            "Weather reports?  You believe those liars?  They're tricksters
    - all of them.  Government-employed meteorologists - it's a conspiracy!
    Pulling the wool over the eyes of the masses, mark my words, the CIA's
    behind......" she tuned out his words as she sighed and walked over to
    the aisle which sold umbrellas.
    
            She picked a neat little black umbrella and paid for her purchases,
    stepping outside and sighing a little.
    
            Fraser was standing beside her with his own umbrella aloft, effectively
    protecting his immaculate uniform from the rain.
    
            She didn't want to ask, but found that she just had to ask,"How
    did you know he was Bob today, mountie?"
    
            "This morning, on my way to work, I encountered Mr Nielsen's
    youngest daughter Gretchen who informed me that she had seen Bob taking
    out the garbage."  He omitted to mention that Gretchen had also fluttered
    her long lashes at him in a way he found most disconcerting.
    
            Marie-Claire shook her head,"This place cannot be real." she
    stepped off the curb awkwardly, sinking up to her ankles in water.  She
    grimaced and continued to walk through the water.
    
            "Ms Dempsey, would you allow me to carry you groceries for......."
    
            "Maybe it's a publicity stunt?" Marie-Claire thought aloud,"Small
    store - needs a gimmick, what better than a shop-keeper with a
    dual-personality.....but then.....advertising would be less of an effort."
    she thought, her brow puckering as she sloshed unheedingly through the
    thick puddles.
    
            The umbrella was useless, she decided, folding it up and just
    letting the rain sluice over her as she walked down the street back to
    her apartment.
            "Ms Dempsey - you're getting wet." Fraser pointed out.
    
            Marie-Claire turned around, the rain had plastered her hair to
    her head and her clothes were absolutely soaked.  She was grinning broadly,
    it was the first time Fraser had seen her look so happy and she shook
    her head,   "You mounties are so observant." she commented and walked
    away humming 'Singing in the Rain' beneath her breath.
            Fraser decided that he would never understand women.
    
            "Make sure you get out of those wet clothes!  You wouldn't want
    to catch a chill!" he called out after her.
    
            She turned around, her face still alight with laughter and delight,"I
    love the rain, actually." she told him and walked away. 
    
            "What have we here?" Fraser asked with interest when he and Ray
    walked through the door and found Wille and Dief staring at cake slices
    on the table.
            Ray reached out for a piece.
            "No, no, no NO!!!!!" Willie called out.
            Ray dropped the slice of cake in shock.
            "What is WITH you, kid?" Ray demanded in exasperation.
    
            "Marie-Claire made it." Willie said in tones of considerable
    horror.  Dief barked in agreement.
    
            "Come now, Willie, I'm sure that Ms Dempsey's cooking is perfectly
    fine.  You must be exaggerating."  Ben picked up a piece and despite
    Willie and Dief's combined warning, he took a bite and chewed.
            A very peculiar expression crossed his face.
            He looked around desperately for the garbage bin.
            "Spit it into your hat." Ray advised helpfully.
    
            Ben crossed to the garbage and spat it out, wiping his mouth
    with his handkerchief and returned to the table, looking slightly perturbed.
    "You were right Willie."
    
            "Now I'm REALLY curious." Ray  said and took a bite despite the
    expressions of horror from the other three occupants in the room. 
            They watched in fascination as Ray choked, turned a very peculiar
    colour, gagged and spat the cake into his hand.
            "Benny."
            "Yes Ray?"
            "You know how you told me she gave you a dead rat?"
            "Yes Ray."
            "I know how it died."
            "I don't think so Ray."
            "She must really hate you, Benny." Ray remarked.
            "What makes you say that?" Ben asked.
    
            "She's trying to poison you.  Why else would she give you this
    cake?" 
            Willie looked guilty,"Actually, she gave it to Dief and me -
    she made the cake for us.  I couldn't say no.  It would hurt her feelings."
    
            Ben nodded,"Quite right, you can never insult someone's cooking.
    It would be an unpardonable social solecism."
    
            "Maybe I'll arrest her for manufacturing prohibited substances."
    Ray joked.
    
            The four of them stood around the table staring at the cake.
    "What are we going to do with it,  Fraser?  Dief almost died when he
    ate it." 
            "So did I." Ben agreed, as he frowned over the problem.
            "Rat poison?" Ray suggested.
            "You're being rude, Ray."
            "Hey, you tasted it."
            Willie headed for the door.
    
            "Willie - you left your cake behind." Fraser pointed out. 
            "That was the whole intention, Fraser." Willie told him.
            "The kid's smart." Ray said approvingly.
    
            "See you tomorrow Fraser." Willie said and the door closed behind
    him. 
            "What am I going to do with it, Ray?" Ben asked, staring down
    at the revolting cake.
            "I don't know, Benny, I don't know."
    
            While Ben and Ray debated what to do with the cake without inadvertantly
    breaching world environmental guidelines for the disposal of toxic waste,
    Marie-Claire tossed her wet clothes into the basket. It was really raining
    cats and dogs out there, she thought. Why hadn't she paid more attention
    at the convenience store? Maybe those rumors about Dave and Bob were
    true.  She resolved to pay closer attention in the future. 
          As she precariously balanced the basket on one hip while locking
    the door with her free hand, she heard a familiar voice behind her ask
    
            "Can I help you with that ma'am?".
    
            "No!" she quickly stated.  As she turned to go down the stairs,
    she irritably noticed her mountie neighbor still looked as fresh as a
    spring day in his dress uniform, not at all touched by the seeming monsoon
    outside.  Marie-Claire hurriedly brushed past him and headed off towards
    the laundry room.
    
          As Marie-Claire entered the laundry room, she saw a familiar figure
    perched on top of one of the washers.  "Hi Elena!"  she called out. 
    "Did you get caught in the rain as well?"
    
          "No, I saw Bob this morning and put my umbrella back in my backpack.
    Though with the way its been raining, a rainsuit and hip waders would
    have probably worked better." Elena replied.   "How are you doing today,
    Marie-Claire?" the nurse inquired.
    
          "Except for leaving all my laundry outside to air dry this afternoon?
    Just wonderful." she stated sarcastically.
    
          As Marie-Claire moved forward to put her clothes in the dryer,
    she noticed something in Elena's lap.  "What's that?" she wondered out
    loud. 
            "It's a baby quilt for Mrs. Nyugen.  It's a Celtic Knot appliqu
    pattern.  I keep telling her that she's got to carry this baby full term
    or else she doesn't get the quilt."
         "How is she doing?"
    
         "She's doing quite well, all things considered.  She's still pretty
    stressed out about that awful graffiti spray painted on their door last
    weekend."  Elena shook her head and lowered her hands.  "Some people
    can be so hateful!"  she said with a strong southern drawl.
    
         "I hadn't heard anything about that.  I've been working some crazy
    hours recently.  What happened?"  Marie-Claire asked.
    
         "Well sometime Saturday night, someone spraypainted their door with
    messages about them eating dogs and cats.  And it looked like they splashed
    red paint on their doorway.   And on the wall across from their apartment,
    someone wrote  'Good Morning Vietnam, Go back while you still can!'"
    
         "How awful!" she responded, "Do the police know who did it?" 
         "If they do, they're not saying"  Elena replied testily.  "I'm sorry,
    I'm not angry with you."  she apologized.   "I just can't imagine having
    to live in fear like they do.   Today it's just words on a wall.  What
    will tomorrow bring?"
    
         There was a silence as both women pondered the Nyugen's situation.
    The buzzer of the dryer interrupted their thoughts and the silence. 
         Elena walked over to the dryer and drew out one of the towels. 
    "Looks like they're done" she exclaimed.  "With as much laundry as I
    seem to be doing, perhaps I should quit my day job and go professional"
    she joked with Marie-Claire.
    
        "You know, I come here pretty often.  I could just throw the Nguyen's
    laundry in with mine and save you a trip over here."
    
         "That's very sweet of you, Marie-Claire, I'll mention it to Mrs.
    Nguyen?"  Elena said with a smile.
    
         The petite nurse began to fold the clothes and towels on the washing
    machine next to Marie-Claire.  As she finished, she turned to Marie-Claire
    and said "A friend of mine, Mike, a physical therapist, is coming over
    to the clinic tomorrow to demonstrate proper body mechanics for our home
    health aides.   I was wondering if you would like to stop by around lunch
    time.  Mike may have a few suggestions for you for your leg."
    
        "I'll think about it,"  she said out loud while thinking; sure, when
    hell freezes over.
        "Ok, I'll catch you later."
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART E
    
            A thick cloud of smoke hung in the remains of what was passing
    for air.   This, combined with the smell of stale beer served to drive
    out any remaining oxygen in the small warehouse.
    
            Darkness was the order of the day, windows boarded up so that
    no one could see out, or in.  For the group of men gathered around a
    small fenced in pen at the heart of the building, conditions were perfect.
    
            The men themselves were an interesting group.  Several books
    had been written about men such as these, most notably "A Case History
    of the Criminal Mind".  Each one made an effort to be both part of the
    proceedings and yet anonymous in the shadows.  All had money.  Great
    wads of cash in hand, wallet, or pocket.  Each had come to part with
    a small amount in hopes of making a larger one.  All of them spoke in
    low whispers, casting their chances against how much they could afford
    to lose.  And likewise, all were prepared to run like a pack of roaches
    the moment after the light comes on.
    
            Abruptly a hush fell over them as a short, sweaty faced man approached
    the ring.  The light of a single, bare bulb shone on his thinning hair.
    
            "Gentlemen," an oily voice escaped his thin lips, "Please conclude
    your wagering.  The next bout begins in..."a glance at a cheap pocket
    watch,"...two minutes."
    
            At this the other men in the room began to separate and take
    up positions from which to watch the fight.  The old pros not needing
    to finish betting, the new ones too ashamed to do so.
    
            Two medium sized cages were rolled out onto the floor next to
    the ring.  Everyone could see the two animals kept within.  Once both
    fine examples of their species, the two dogs had been half starved and
    beaten to make them ferocious.  They fought and scratched to be released
    anytime anyone came for a closer look.  Hatred had been introduced. 
    Hatred for man, hatred for the other, and hatred for themselves.
    
            The openings of the cages were placed against similar openings
    in the fence surrounding the ring.  Ropes were run through pulleys and
    attached to hooks above the doors of the cages.
    
            "Gentleman, it is time."  Oily Voice again.  "Stop your bets,
    please."  He waited a moment for silence to fall, then, when all was
    quiet, he quickly stepped aside and gave a nod to the two men at each
    rope. 
            A swift downward pull brought the doors of both cages up and
    released the animals into the ring.  They stood transfixed in their cages,
    unwilling to trust to their apparent release.  Then the Black Lab on
    the left cautiously came forward.  Soon he was followed by the German
    Shepherd on the far side.  Both sniffed the air and stood eyeing their
    surroundings and each other.
    
            Something landed with a wet slap in the center of the ring. Immediately
    their attention was fixed on the first food either had seen in a week.
    It was a the limb body of a dead stray cat which had been captured in
    the streets.  A quick sniff and both dogs were at it in seconds.  The
    desired effect was achieved and they were quickly attacking each other
    in an effort to gain possession.
    
            It ended quickly.  The Shepherds more powerful jaws locked onto
    the Labs throat and held.  No amount of clawing and scratching would
    help.  The Lab quickly lost the ability to even  whimper over its fate
    as its throat was torn out.  Yet the Shepherd still hung on until, at
    last, he was covered in blood and the Lab lay dead at his feet.  The
    Shepherd licked its lips and began a gruesome feast.
            And money changed hands.
    
    The tiny terrier quivered with fright, its heart pounding
    frantically as it cowered in the corner.  It could taste fear in the
    air, taste it and smell the savagery which pervaded the entire room.
    
            One moment he had been wandering through the garbage of the streets,
    the next moment he had found himself in a strange environment surrounded
    by other dogs and cats.  There was panic in the air, similar to the panic
    at a slaughteryard or the pound when the executions were taking place.
    Animals always knew when they were going to die.
    
            The barking was getting closer and the dog's large eyes glanced
    around frantically, his muzzle twitching as he looked in vain for an
    escape route.
    
            The lame cat cowered against him, the two of them shrinking back
    in fear.
    
            "Go on!  there they are!" one of the men called out as he let
    the leash on one of the vicious dogs go slack.
    
            The pack made a sound of exultation and dove at the small, helpless
    cat who trembled.
    
            Within seconds, the little animal was torn to pieces, its hot,
    rusty blood further enraging the savage dogs who demanded more.
    
            The tiny terrier despite its scratches and injuries managed to
    creep away while the dogs were savaging their prey.
    
            Mrs. Gonzalez was frantically searching for her son Pedro Carlos
    Gonzalez III.  Pedro II was adamant that his son be named after him as
    he was named after his father.  The only problem was Pedro II disappeared
    shortly after the birth of his son leaving Mrs. G. to wonder why was
    it so important for him to have a namesake in the first place.
    
            Pedro III or Pete as he liked to be called was 14 and absolutely
    crazy about animals.  He would spend hours at Lincoln Park Zoo walking
    around, talking to the keepers and drawing the animals.  He would joke
    that because they lived so far from the zoo it took him a bus, an El,
    2 cabs and a helicopter drop to get him there.
    
            On this particular day though, Pete was 3 hours late getting
    home from school and Mrs. G was in a panic.  He had been late before
    but never like this.  Hence, she searched every square inch of the route
    he took to and from school.  No one had seen him after he had left for
    the day.  It would be dark soon, Mrs G. thought anxiously. "I must find
    him before dark."  she said to herself.
    
            Pete had left school on time. Another uneventful day.  It was
    a long and boring walk home and Pete had discovered that if he took a
    short cut through the alleys he could save himself about 10 minutes.
    The downside of this was that if his mom ever discovered that he was
    using the alleys she would kill him.  He took the chance anyway - she
    was at work how could she possibly find him out?
    
            As he progressed down the alley lost in thought, he suddenly
    realised that while ambling along in his own private world, he had managed
    to wander into an unfamiliar area.  He glanced around curiously, not
    particularly concerned at his predicament, regarding it as something
    of an adventure which would lift the day above the humdrum.
    
            The place was rundown, deserted with cracks in the old buildings.
    Suddenly, he heard a cry or whimper.  Pete stopped immediately, the sound
    of an animal in need always made him alert and he listened closely. 
    It was coming from an abandoned building just a few metres away.  Pete
    approached the building and pushed open the door. The whimpering was
    definitely coming from inside.
    
            "Great." said Pete to himself. He made the usual noises people
    made when they wanted an animal to come but to no avail.  Reluctantly
    he took a few steps inside.  It was much darker than he imagined it would
    be during the day and it smelled peculiar and a prickle of discomfort
    shivered across his skin.
    
            The whimpering was much louder now and seemed to be coming from
    the direction of the staircase located to his right.
    
            "That's not too far,"  Pete thought to himself. So he headed
    in the direction of the sound.  As he approached the staircase the crying
    became more intense almost a panic and his heart pounded.
    
            He looked under the stairs and what he saw gave him a start.
    At first Pete couldn't tell if it was a cat or a dog. The animal was
    dirty and bleeding. It was missing clumps of fur from various parts of
    its body. 
            Pete moved in closer talking in a low voice in the vain hope
    of calming the poor animal.  As he got closer it tried to disappear into
    the wall trying to get away from Pete.  At this distance Pete could tell
    it was a small dog.  Seeing that his presence was not helping he decided
    to withdraw and see if he could find someone to help.
    
            As he turned to go he heard voices coming from somewhere above
    him. Then a door opened and he could hear the voices very clearly.
    
            "Get someone to find out where that noise is coming from and
    make it stop. OK.? We don't need someone wandering in here snooping around."
    Pete didn't waste any time looking for a spot to hide. He knew that whoever
    belonged to that voice would not understand that he only wanted to help
    the dog.
    
            He glanced around and saw a stack of barrels.  "Perfect" he said
    to himself and made tracks.  above. A man came out of the office and
    started down the stairs.  The light from the office had the effect of
    a spot light on the staircase and the area directly below.   In this
    light Pete could see that the man had a gun in his hand.  As the man
    reached midpoint on the stairs the little dog darted from his hiding
    place and made a bee-line for the door that Pete had left open.
    
            "Hey! What the..." the man yelled as he now ran down the remaining
    stairs and headed towards the open door. Pete's racing heart fell to
    his feet - or felt as if it did.  For a panicked moment, he feared that
    the man would pursue the little dog; but to his momentary relief he did
    not. Instead he spun around and stood very still peering into the darkness.
    
            It was at this moment  Pete realised his mistake and the gravity
    of the situation.  The man was no longer after the dog, now he was hunting
    an uninvited guest - Pete.  He held his breath and wished that his heart
    would not beat quite so loud.  Waiting in the shadows Pete promised God
    in a fervent fashion a grocery list of things he would do and not do
    if HE would just get him out of this predicament alive.
    
            "Jack! Get down here!" the man yelled.  A figure appeared on
    the stairs a moment later,
    
            "Yeah, what? Lost your doggie?" he demanded sarcastically. 
            "Get down here!" the man with the gun demanded angrily.  Jack
    proceeded down the stairs and towards the door in a leisurely fashion.
    
            "What's the matter Denny?" Jack asked.
            "Who brought the supplies in today Jack?"
    
            "I did Denny. You let me in, remember?"  Jack told Denny in an
    insolent manner.
    
            "That's right." Denny said in a condescending tone which oozed
    menace. "So Jack, that means YOU were the last one in-correct?"
    
            Fear began to creep into Jack's previously flippant voice as
    he answered,
    
            "Yeah-I guess so." his voice quavered slightly, no longer so
    calm. 
            Without warning, Denny grabbed Jack by the jacket and shook him,
    "Good. Then you can tell me why this door is open."
    
            "I-I-I don't know" Jack stammered, all his bravado well and truly
    vanished.
    
            With this, Denny shook Jack even harder. "YOU DON'T KNOW? I DON'T
    WANT-I DON'T KNOW!"
    
            "OK, OK - I had my hands full and I kicked it shut. I meant to
    come back and bolt it. I guess I forgot.   I'm sorry." Jack rambled nervously.
    "It won't happen again."
    
            Denny glared at Jack "I want you to search this place and make
    sure nobody got in. UNDERSTAND!"  Jack nodded obediently.  "You know
    Jack, if the cops find this place you're goin' back to jail. This is
    a definite violation of your parole. Remember jail Jack? The boys would
    be very glad to see you again."
    
            "Y-Yes Denny, I understand." quavered Jack, a nervous twitch
    in his jaw making its presence known.  Denny released him contemptuously.
    
            "Start with the pens and be sure they're all locked down. Tonight's
    the big night. A LOT of money is riding on those dogs.  OK, that terrier
    that got loose after its fight yesterday, not only lived through the
    damned night but beat - feet or should I say paws, out of YOUR open door.
    I'm gonna go and find him and practice my very own version of euthanasia
    before someone finds him and starts wondering how he got so chewed up.
    Get Ralph down here to watch the door. I'll be right back.  I doubt he
    made it very far in his condition." With that Denny headed out the door.
    Jack called Ralph and then went upstairs to carry-out Dennys' orders.
    
            Pete sat as still as he could. Trying to comprehend all he had
    heard and hoping he could find a way out before anyone discovered he
    was there. Pete checked his watch "damn" he was already more than a half
    and hour late and it didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon
    either. Twenty mins. later Denny returned in an even worse mood than
    when he left. His hunting trip was unsuccessful. "At least one of us
    got a way." Pete thought.  As Denny bolted the door,
    that anyone came early and that the spectators would start arriving in
    about an hour.
    
            "Great! another hour with no chance of escape. Mom is gonna KILL
    ME! If these guy don't do it first"  Pete thought as a chill ran through
    his body.
    
            The time passed with agonising slowness but eventually people
    started to show up.  Disreputable men with faces only mothers could love
    - and even then only at a great distance.
    
            Ralph and another man who was built like one a WWF wrestler,
    let the visitors in one by one after they had frisked them and confiscated
    anything that could be used as a weapon and issued a claim check of some
    sort to each person.
    
            Despite being a boy of the television age, Pete had never seen
    so many guns and knives in all of his young life in such a short period
    of time.  By 7:00pm the unwashed assemblage had proceeded upstairs and
    the door was bolted.
    
            It was dark outside and he was in no doubt that his poor mother
    would think that he was probably dead.
    
            "Well," he thought "I will be once I get home."  Pete made a
    decision to wait a little longer to ensure the coast was clear before
    making a break for it.  As he waited he could hear the men laughing and
    shouting and he could smell the acrid smell of cigarettes and cigars.
    
            Suddenly there was a great deal of cheering from rough throats
    and clapping from callused hands. It sounded as though an announcement
    of some sort was being made.  Pete had been on the verge of making a
    run for it when he heard the most frightening sound he had ever heard.
    
            It was the sound of wild animals - growls, snarls, yelps and
    what sounded like high pitched screams echoed throughout the building
    in an eerie and pitiful fashion.   It was only then that Pete realised
    that the men were having the dogs he heard them talking about earlier,
    fight each other. 
            He felt sickened beyond belief.  He knew with a grim certainty
    that he had to make a break for it now while a fight was going on and
    all the noise would muffle the sound of the bolts on the door being drawn
    back. 
            Pete made his move.  The bolts were rusty and he had a hard time
    pulling them back.  It didn't help that he was in a panic. After what
    seemed an eternity, the last of the bolts slid back and he was able to
    open the door.
    
            Once outside, he ran as fast as he could out of the alley and
    to the main street.  With tears streaming down his face he ran as fast
    as he could towards his home, losing his way several times so blinded
    was he by panic and tears.
    
            Once he paused and looked around anxiously, certain that he was
    being followed.  "Who is it?" he demanded nervously and he stared in
    astonishment as he saw the little terrier limp out from behind a garbage
    can and look at him with large, panicked eyes.
    
            Glancing around frantically, Pete hastily scooped the wounded
    animal up into his arms and started to run again.
    
            Two blocks from his house he stopped to catch his ragged breath
    and that was when he saw his alarmed mother.  She stopped and stared
    at him as if she was seeing a ghost. Then ran to him and engulfed him
    in the best hug he could remember.
    
            "Be care of the dog mom." he said breathlessly as the little
    terrier made a faint sound of protest.
    
            Both were crying as they walked the last 2 blocks home.  Once
    at home Pete told his mother everything that he had witnessed, the little
    dog shivering on the rug as it made a feeble attempt to lap at some milk.
    
            Mrs Gonzales' reaction was unexpected.  She was calm but quietly
    furious.  Not angry at Pete (as he had been certain she would be) but
    angry at what the world was coming to.
            "You will have to report this to the police, Pete."
    
            This did not make him a happy camper.  All he could think of
    was one of those shows on TV where the friends of the bad guys come to
    wreak havoc on the unfortunate informer and his family for the rest of
    his very short life.
    
            His mom understood.   She suggested that perhaps that nice Mountie
    that lived in the neighbourhood might be able to help.  Pete reluctantly
    agreed to that as he stroked the terrier's matted fur with a tender hand.
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART F
    
            Marie-Claire walked up the stairs to Mrs Nguyen's room, her leg
    aching and she wondered how the woman managed the rather tortuous stairs
    at all.
    
            She knocked on the door firmly, waiting until she heard an accented
    voice ask shyly. "Yes?  Who is it?"
    
            "My name's Marie-Claire, Elena normally does your laundry and
    I said that I might be able to give you a hand." she said through the
    door. She heard the unbolting of doors and Marie-Claire saw that Mrs
    Nguyen was a tiny, delicate woman with a great swollen belly.
    
            She had long black hair pulled back in a loose pony-tail and
    she looked tired and very drained.   "This is very kind of you," Mrs
    Nguyen said haltingly,
    
            "The nice man in the red - he say he can help me......but....."
    she lowered her voice and said in a slightly appalled voice,"he is a
    man.  It would be very embarrassing to have him washing our underwear."
    
            Marie-Claire's lips twitched but she didn't laugh, because Mrs
    Nguyen sounded so very serious.  The thought of the very proper mountie
    hanging up pantyhose and brassieres to dry made her want to dissolve
    into hysterical laughter though.
            "I quite understand," she said soothingly.
    
            "Would you like a cup of tea?' Mrs Nguyen asked in her soft voice
    and Marie-Claire smiled,
    
            "That would be wonderful - as long as you allow me to make it,"
    she said using her most charming and persuasive smile.  Before Mrs Nguyen
    quite knew what was happening to her, she was sitting down in a chair
    with her feet up and a cup of tea in her hands.
    
            "And your mother, would she like a cup of tea, too?" Marie-Claire
    asked.  Mrs Nguyen nodded, momentarily enjoying the luxury of sitting
    back and relaxing.  Marie-Claire carried the cup of tea into one of the
    tiny bedrooms.  An old woman with a face like a baked apple looked up
    at her with bright, dark eyes and she smiled,
    
            "Would you like some tea?" she asked indicating the cup she held.
    The old woman looked at her and a smile creased her face.  Marie-Claire
    assisted the very light woman into a sitting position and gave her the
    tea. 
    
            She returned to see Mrs Nguyen kneading her temples distractedly.
    The room was very neat and tidy, in one corner was a little shrine with
    incense sticks burning.  Occasionally she heard the hum of mantras at
    night and had assumed that they had been at prayer.
    
            The monotonous chanting and rhythmic sounds were an intriguingly
    exotic contribution to the sounds of the morning and night.
    
            A window was broken and she saw that paper had been taped over
    it and she sat down next to Mrs Nguyen and asked gently,"Elena says you've
    been having problems."
    
            "It is nothing." Mrs Nguyen said stubbornly, not wanting to appear
    even weaker in front of a stranger and Marie-Claire who understood the
    meaning of pride nodded.  She went to get the laundry, grinning at the
    rather jolly budda who was beaming at her from the ledge.
    
            "I won't be long," she said,"Do you prefer to use the dryer to
    dry your clothes, or do you prefer a line?"
    
            "Dave delivered some groceries this morning." Mrs Nguyen said
    as if that answered everything.
    
            "Err, so I assume that means - the line?" Marie-Claire clarified
    and Mrs Nguyen nodded,
    
            "Will not rain." she said confidently and Marie-Claire tried
    not to look sceptical as she left the room carrying the laundry. On the
    way down she encountered Mrs Trapp, a rather obnoxious woman with a finger
    she used to point.  For such a stubby, fat little finger it managed to
    carry a great deal of emphasis about it.
    
            "Someone ought to do something about those people." she said
    aggressively as Marie-Claire approached her.  Marie-Claire set down the
    basket of laundry for a moment and straightened, a faintly militant gleam
    in her green eyes.
    
            "Oh?" she asked coolly.  "And what people might these be?" she
    queried.  The sausage-like finger waved in her face again,
    
            "Those people, barbarians all of them!" Mrs Trapp told her. "Chanting
    all day long, burning things.....those sneaky, slanted eyes....! They
    should go back to their own country." Mrs Trapp announced with the air
    of someone who believed that she was saying something for the very first
    time.
    
            "You must be commended on your very generous and broad-minded
    outlook, Mrs Trapp." Marie-Claire said with a great deal of sweetness.
    
            Mrs Trapp narrowed her beady eyes, the finger waved in
    Marie-Claire's face again,"It's bleeding hearts that you that will make
    this great nation of ours get polluted."
    
            "Sieg Heil." Marie-Claire murmured sotto voce and was about to
    make a very provocative remark when a polite voice murmured,
    
            "Actually, cultural diversity is more of a plus than a minus.
    There can be nothing more remarkable than seeing many difference cultures
    living together in harmony and learning from each other."        Mrs
    Trapp's face changed with alacrity as the tall uniformed mountie approached
    them. 
            "Hello Benton," she cooed,"You must come around for some of my
    fudge brownies soon, my daughter Flossie would love to have you come
    around.  Why not tonight?"
    
            An expression remarkably like panic flickered over Ben's usually
    impassive features.   "Thank you kindly, ma'am, but I'm afraid that I
    have already promised Miss Dempsey here that I would assist her with
    her laundry."
    
            A choked sound escaped Marie-Claire's throat but she said nothing.
    Benton looked relieved at her silence.  Mrs Trapp waved her finger around
    in front of Marie-Claire's expressionless face again, an edge in her
    voice,"A big girl like you should be able to do her own washing."
    
            "Well, I never can separate the whites from the coloured without
    guidance," Marie-Claire murmered,"Laundry's requires such a delicate
    balance, you know."
    
            Mrs Trapp looked down at Diefenbaker and patted him on the head
    as if he was a poodle.   "Nice doggy," she cooed and Dief showed his
    teeth menacingly,allowing a growl to escape his throat. Mrs Trapp's smile
    slipped slightly. "Oh well, I'll see you soon," she said patting her
    blue curls with an air of flirtatiousness.  "I just love a man in uniform,"
    she said before she waddled away in her purple, floral dress.
    
            "Wimp." Marie-Claire murmured as she prepared to pick up her
    laundry.  He was too fast for her this time and picked up the laundry
    and strode downstairs with it.
    
            "Are you referring perchance to my words to Mrs Trapp perhaps?"
    Ben asked cautiously.
    
            "You turned down a cosy evening with Flossie and the brownies.
    I didn't know Mounties were allowed to lie." she murmured as she made
    her way down the stairs, avoiding the handrail.  It gave her the most
    incredibly painful electric shocks and it drove her crazy.
    
            "Well, the way I see it, it wasn't precisely a lie," he explained.
    "I'm curious to know why you didn't disabuse her of the notion immediately."
    
            He had met Flossie Trapp once before.  She was as decisive as
    her surname and had clung to him with the stubborn tenacity of a limpet.
    It had taken him days to wash off the scent of Lulu perfume and the food
    she had plied him with had made even his cast-iron stomach rebel.
    
            "I wouldn't wish that old battle-axe even on you, mountie." she
    told him and was playing with Dief as they headed to the laundry. Dief
    was as sprightly as a puppy and the two of them had obviously played
    on many occasions in the past.
    
            "How is your new household addition fairing, if I might be permitted
    to ask?" he asked politely.
    
            "Did you want to help me dispose of more dead rats?" Marie-Claire
    inquired with arched brows.
    
            "Well, not exactly, I was just making polite conversation." he
    said ingenuously.
    
            She took the basket from him, set it down next to the machine,
    wincing at the shock she got from the metal and then turned. "Are you
    aware that the Nguyens are being harassed?"
    
            "Yes, I apprehended two of the culprits only yesterday, two young
    boys with a can of spraypaint."
    
            "And their window has been broken."  she said accusingly. 
            "I'm aware of that that, I'm currently negotiating with the perpetrator
    to ensure that he pays for the damage.  Cats and dogs are going missing
    in this neighbourhood, though."
    
            Marie-Claire's eyes narrowed dangerously and he added hastily,"Not
    of course, that there is any connection between their disappearance and
    ahh....ummmm."
    
            Marie-Claire pushed him out the door of the laundry, noting absently
    that she didn't get a shock from contact.  She patted Dief one last time.
    
            "Miss Dempsey, please allow me to expl...."        The door slammed
    in his face.
    
            Fraser stared at the closed door.  "You know Dief, I'm beginning
    to think that our neighbour has something against me." Dief barked in
    agreement with a decided lack of sympathy in his voice.
    
            Ben and Willie were walking along together in the park.  "I aced
    my Math test." Willie said proudly and Ben nodded approvingly,      
    "Is this the same Math test in which you tried to lead a strike?"  he
    inquired. 
    
            "Hey Fraser!  You're the one who told me about the International
    Charter for Human Rights."
    
            "Somehow, I don't think that a Math test can quite be considered
    a contravention of the charter, Willie." Ben said a little apologetically.
    
            Willie's lower lip stuck out,"That's what MC said."
            "MC?" Ben asked curiously.
    
            "Your neighbour," Willie said impatiently,"Don't you even know
    her name."
            "I am only slightly acquainted with Miss Dempsey."
    
            "Dief's mad about her.  She's crazy about him, too." Willie said
    as the wolf panted up to them after having hurtled wildly around the
    park in pursuit of imaginary prey.
    
            "From that remark, I may surmise that they're well-acquainted?"
    
            "She comes out walking with us everyday, MC's cool.  She even
    plays a bitta Snoop Doggy Dog for me, but she reminds me that I should
    be in bed." Willie said with a grin.
    
            "Snoop Doggy Dog?" Ben asked, looking confused and Dief made
    a sound of disgust.  Willie looked equally disgusted,
    
            "Man, don't you know anything, Fraser?  I'll bet you've never
    even heard of NWA or Ice Cube."
    
            Fraser cleared his throat,"I confess that the names are not familiar
    to me."
    
            "Music, Fraser - it's music.  Rap, hip hop - that kinda thing."
    
            "Ah, now I see.  This is the music which has its origins in the
    ghettoes and often expresses anger and notions of black empowerment,
    am I right?"
    
            Willie grinned,"I'll bet you've never heard the 'Cop Killer'
    song." 
            "Well no, I admit that I have not, although I have heard the
    Eric Clapton song 'I shot the sheriff'.  I'm more partial to Puccini,
    myself. Occasionally a little Mozart and Beethoven - if I'm feeling contemplative
    the Chopin nocturnes are always very soothing."
    
            Willie looked frankly disgusted.  "Man, you're as bad as MC,
    she likes all that fancy stuff as well.  Good thing she likes other stuff,
    too, though. She says her boss lets her play all kinds of music as long
    as she keeps the ratings up."
    
            "I'm afraid you've lost me again." Ben said apologetically. 
            "She's a DJ, Ben - she works the late shift - on AIR 105." Willie
    said with an air of pride,"She says that when I'm on vacation, I can
    go in one night and help her out."
    
            "Oh.  So that's what she does." Ben said with the air of someone
    who has solved a great mystery.  "She always comes in late."
    
            "Yeah, she sleeps late, too.  She helped me break into your place,
    you
    know." Willie said looking wicked and Ben looked astonished.        "She
    broke into my apartment?" Ben asked curiously,"My lock is broken." 
            "The door was stuck." Willie explained, "MC kicked it in for
    me." 
            "And Dief didn't do anything?" he looked at his wolf disapprovingly
    and Dief made a sound as if to say -'what did you expect?  I like her
    - did you really want me to eat her?'
    
            "No of course not," Ben asserted to himself,"Such an act of violence
    would have been quite unacceptable, however a warning might have been
    appropriate."
            Dief snorted and ran off again.
    
            "Mr Nguyen?" Marie-Claire inquired as they all stood in the hall,
    queuing for the bathroom.
    
            "Yes - you must be Miss Dempsey." the slender, softly-spoken
    man said.
    
            "That's right, it's Marie-Claire actually.  How is your wife
    today?" 
            "She is better, the baby has been causing her to sleep badly,
    though." he said, looking a little worried.
    
            Marie-Claire played with her soap,"Has the window been fixed
    yet?" 
            "Oh yes, the man with the big hat brought around the boy who
    did it- he has promised to pay us."
    
            "That's great." Marie-Claire said with pleasure.  Moving down
    a few steps when a damp bather emerged from the steamy bathroom.    
    At this rate she'd never get a shower tonight.  She sighed and decided
    she'd shower when she got back from work that night.
    
            Ben lay back in bed, the radio on and playing softly.  It was
    tuned to AIR105.
    
            He had been listening the previous night when she had been reading
    aloud from her favourite metaphysical poets, interspersing her reading
    with incongruous selections of music which ranged from Loreena McKennit
    to Bon Jovi and Pearl Jam.
    
            "It's late, I've had too much coffee and I'm really wired," he
    heard his bad-tempered neighbour's voice murmur.
    
            Without its bad-tempered edge, it was a very pleasant voice.
    Unusual, with a hint of a lilt in it at moments.  It was a shame she
    didn't speak like that all the time.
    
            "According to a......reliable source.....there will be rain tomorrow
    so put your umbrellas in your bags folks.  In tribute to my overdose
    on caffeine, here's Ella with 'Black Coffee'."      The music drifted
    through the room as Ella's torchy voice made coffee and cigarettes a
    somewhat sensual vice rather than the unhealthy, bad habits they were.
    
            After the song, she returned and began a rather droll monologue.
    "'Little Women' and 'Good Wives' - great books.  But I know like you
    all know that they contain one of the worst crimes of the century.  I
    don't know about you all, but I think it's a great travesty of justice
    that Jo and Laurie didn't get married.
    
            Let's face it - they were made for each other.  In 'Little Women'
    -the relationship was ideal, they had a meeting of minds.  Their spirited
    temperaments were suited to each other.  Don't give me any of this rubbish
    about being their incompatible - it's clear that the two of them were
    the ideal couple.  Tell me what you think."
    
            Ben listened for the next couple of hours as she played music
    and handled a spirited talk-back session with a great deal of flair and
    good humour.
    
            A university professor called up to expostulate that Louisa May
    Alcott was a 'great woman' who had skilfully been able to weave a tale
    and find a character like Professor Bhaer who was compatible to Jo's
    fiery ways.  He accused Marie-Claire of sacrilege and so forth and rather
    than cutting him off, she allowed him to ramble on until he had said
    his piece. 
            She added further fuel to the fire by adding that she thought
    that Amy was
    a blonde-headed simp with no function other than to be decorative. Outraged
    calls flooded in and she listened patiently to all the replies. 
    
            "OK, the lines for the 'I loved Laurie' phone poll are still
    open,"she announced later into the evening.  "I've got a copy of Louisa
    May Alcott's diary here.  I wonder whether you were aware that Miss Alcott
    was a feminist? She was annoyed that  so many girls were writing to her
    demanding to know who all the little women married.
    
            There's a rather pithy statement in here about her irritation
    with everyone's assumption that it was the inevitable destiny of every
    woman to be caught up in the coils of matrimony. She then went on to
    say that she had intended Jo to remain a spinster, but that the barrage
    of mail made that impossible.  Thus, in a spirit of perversity, she married
    him to the oddest, funniest little old German professor that she could
    find."
    
            Marie-Claire paused,"My theory is that she had originally intended
    the two of them to be married, but that the nagging made her marry them
    to other
    people."
    
            The "I Loved Laurie" poll results were announced at the close
    of the evening and she concluded the evening somewhat inexplicably with
    Barry Mannilow's 'Bandstand Boogie'.
    
            The alley-way was dark as usual and Marie-Claire decided that
    she was going to have to go and force Argyle into installing some lighting
    in the area.    She pondered how she would go about intimidating the
    oily landlord.
    
            She pulled her canvas bag higher onto her shoulder when she heard
    the sound of shouting and crying. A rock was thrown through a window
    and a woman's voice rose hysterically.
    
            Marie-Claire broke into an awkward run, heading up the stairs
    to see her neighbour running up the stairs, dressed in jeans and a hastily
    pulled on shirt.
                   "What's happening?" she demanded.
    
                   "I think the Nguyen's are getting harassed again." Ben
    called over his shoulder as he took the stairs three at a time.
    
            Mrs Nguyen was crying hysterically and Mr Nguyen was frantically
    trying to
    calm her down as well as tend to old Mrs Nguyen who had suffered a cut
    to her forehead.
    
                   There were rocks in the room and the smell of burning
    cloth. Ben smothered the flames from the homemade fire bomb, his observant
    gaze missing nothing, noting that burning cloth had been wrapped around
    the stones before they were hurled into the room.
    
            "She's going into labour." Ben announced as Mrs Nguyen crumpled
    into his arms.
            "I'll call an ambulance." Marie-Claire told him.
    
            "Not enough time, probably" he said curtly.  He turned to Dief
    who was waiting by the door.  "Go get Elena, Dief." he ordered and the
    wolf vanished with alacrity.
    
            Marie-Claire was looking a little green.  "The baby's coming
    NOW?" 
            "Yes." Ben said lifting the sobbing woman into his arms and carrying
    her to the bed.
    
            "Boiling water and shoe laces, right?" Marie-Claire said to herself,"That's
    what they always want in the movies....."
    
            Marie-Claire stood in the doorway petrified realising exactly
    how Prissy had felt in Gone with the wind when she had confessed to a
    furious Scarlett O'Hara,  "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies
    speech" 
    
    ************
            "Go to Mr. Mustafi's and call 911, Miss Dempsey."
    
            "I thought you said that they wouldn't get here in time." 
            "I said there MAY not be time and even if they arrive after the
    birth we still might need them in case there are any complications."
    Ben said calmly. 
            "No, no, please don't go." Mrs Nguyen pleaded.
    
            "Mr Nguyen," Ben said to Mr N who was busy trying to calm his
    hysterical mother & his wife N down, but failing miserably due to his
    own panic
    
            Ben turned towards MC.  "Ok, I'll go make the call.  I'll need
    you  to stay here and assist her Marie-Claire."
    
            Marie-Claire turned an even deeper shade of green and was being
    to feel a little lightheaded.  "Me?"  she inquired.  "I don't know anything
    about childbirth."  She looked over at Mrs. Nguyen worriedly.
    
            "You'll be fine and I'll only be gone for a few minutes." he
    said to  MC.  He turned towards Mrs Nguyen.  "Have you tried some of
    the visualization techniques that Elena showed you yet?"
           "No, not yet.  I'll try now"  Mrs. N. whispered back.
    
           "I will return shortly."  the Mountie replied.  "Remember to take
    deep breaths.  Inhaling through the nose and exhaling slowly through
    your lips."  Ben turned towards the door and then halted and faced MC.
    "Please make sure she's taking slow deep breaths and that she doesn't
    push yet."
    
            "Not a problem" MC muttered under her breath.  The longer Mrs.
    N waited to have the baby the better,. she thought.  Her stomach felt
    quesy just at the mention of "pushing".
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART G
    
             Ben walked quickly out the door down the hall to make the necessary
    calls.
    
            MC found herself alone with Mrs. N to practice deep breathing
    and visualisation techniques which strangely enough relaxed her as well.
    
            "Deep breath, exhale," she muttered to herself.  "Hmm an epidural
    would be nice," she thought to herself for a hysterical moment and then
    turned back to Mrs N who was doubling over in another contraction. 
            "I like Benton......but he is a.......man...." Mrs N whispered
    to Marie-Claire, clutching her hand convulsively.  "He should not be
    here when I am having my baby." she said softly.
    
            "Mrs Nguyen, I understand how you feel." she said haltingly,
    feeling a desperate desire to bolt madly for the door shrieking at the
    top of her lungs.  Her stomach did another flip.
    
            She patted Mrs Nguyen's hand feebly,"Umm, I'll stay with you.....but
    you are going to need Constable Fraser's help if your baby comes before
    the ambulance or Elena.
    
            "No, no......will be OK.....last time....took many hours before
    the baby was ready to be born.
    
            "Really?" Marie-Claire asked lamely, gulping at the thought of
    a long labour.
    
            To her overwhelming relief, Elena and Ben walked into the apartment
    at that point.
    
            Elena surveyed the chaotic room and Marie-Claire's queasy-looking
    face calmly,
    
            "Fortunately I was changing an IV site on one of my other patients
    only a few blocks away when Dief virtually dragged me out the door."
    she said humorously.
            "Thank God you're here." Marie-Claire said in relief.
            Elena's professionalism snapped into place immediately.
    
            "What's she doing?" Marie-Claire asked Benton who was rolling
    up his sleeves and beginning to scrub his hands and arms.
    
            "She is asking Mrs Nguyen questions to determine if its a false
    labour." Ben told her knowledgably.
            "Does the pain better with walking?"
            "No."
            "Is the pain constant or does it go away?"
            "Now constant."
            "Where is it located?"
            Mrs Nguyen pointed to her lower abdomen.
            "How  long has pain been present?"
    
            "Not sure,  was feeling very uncomfortable before bed, but intense
    pain only started about 1 hr ago."
    
            "Mrs. Nguyen, I'd like to go ahead and examine you to see how
    far along in your labor you are.  May I?"  inquired the nurse.  
    
             Mrs. N rapidly nodded her head and then glanced in the direction
    of MC and Ben who were standing in the doorway.
    
            "Constable Fraser, Marie-Claire, would you mind waiting for us
    in the kitchen?  Let me wash my hands Mrs. Nguyen and I'll be right back."
    Elena then proceceeded to lead Ben and MC into the kitchen.  "I'll let
    you know whether we're having a home birth or not as soon as I can" 
    Elena said with a smile while drying her hands.
    
            As Elena finished her examination, she said to Mrs. N.  "I believe
    that you have just started the 2nd phase of labor.  You are almost fully
    dilated and labours tend to get shorter with each subsequent birth, so
    this one may have progressed faster than your last.   I think that we'll
    have just enough time to get you to the hospital before you give birth.
    Let me go let MC and Ben know.  Don't forget - deep breaths & no pushing
    yet."
    
            Meanwhile in the kitchen, Benton and Marie-Claire were sitting
    at the Nguyen's kitchen table anxiously awaiting Elena's report.
    
            "Are you feeling all right, Miss Dempsey?" Ben asked Marie-Claire
    who was swallowing hard.
            "Just peachy, mountie." Marie-Claire said flatly.
    
              At that moment, Elena walked back into the kitchen.  "I'm glad
    y'all were here & called me.  It looks like though she's just beginning
    the second stage of labor, so we have some time before the birth." she
    spoke with a faint Southern accent.
    
            "Second stage?  Is there anything we can do?" Marie-Claire asked
    a little
    nervously.
    
            "Someone should keep a lookout for the ambulance.  If it comes
    soon, Mrs N can deliver at the hospital rather than in her bedroom."
            "Dief?" the wolf trotted obediently out the door.
    
            Elena looked over at Benton.  "Mrs. Nguyen said something about
    a firebomb?" she inquired.
    
           "Yes, apparently there were several thrown into their apartment
    tonight."  he replied.  He smiled and said "I was going to ask her about
    them, but then it didn't seem like a good time."
    
            Elena laughed in reply.  "You're probably right.  The more relaxed
    I can keep her the better off she'll be.  Have you talked to Mr. Nguyen
    yet?" 
            "No, we were waiting to see if you would need assistants." he
    said. 
            "Well, I think we have enough time.  If things begin to progress
    a little faster, I'll be sure to let you know.  Let me go back and see
    how she's doing.  Please let me know when the ambulance arrives."
    
            Ben stood up.  "I think I'll go find..." MC cut him off with
    "Yes, I'll be ok.  You go talk to Mr. Nguyen and I'll check on the other
    Mrs. Nguyen.  I'll just put some tea on."  she said.
    
            Ben started to question, but then thought the better of it and
    shook his head with a frown.  How hard could making tea be?  He was sure
    it couldn't turn out like that cake.  He walked out of the kitchen still
    shaking his head at the memory of that so-called-cake.
    
           As Marie-Claire started the tea, she realized for the first time
    that she was alone.  The Nguyen's couldn't be responsible for the missing
    animals, she knew.  Now she had her opportunity to find proof.
    
           There was a sharp bark that prompted quick action from  the occupants
    of the apartment.   Diefenbaker stood in the doorway to the apartment
    followed closely by 2 EMT's who were still breathing heavily after the
    run up the stairs.  One of the EMT's turned to the other and said in
    between breaths "Joe, how 'come people having babies never live on the
    first floor?"  Joe just shook his head as he tried to catch his breath.
    While the EMT's were catching their breath in the doorway, Elena came
    quickly from the bedroom and began to give them report on Mrs. Nguyen's
    condition. 
    
           Benton and Marie-Claire quickly joined the growing number of people
    in the Nguyen's tiny living room.   Elena turned to Benton, and said
    "Mr. Nguyen and I will ride with her to the hospital in the ambulance.
    We'll call Mr. Mustafi to let you know as soon as the baby is born. 
    Thank you again for your help."  Elena then followed the EMT's down the
    stairs with Mr. Nguyen.
    ********
    
            "I'm glad you're here, Ray." Ben said when his friend arrived.
    
            "I don't know what you think I can do, Benny?  It sounds like
    your normal slum neighbourhood attacks."
    
            "There are dogs and cats going missing around here.  At first
    it was just strays, and then household pets started to go missing as
    well." Ray looked at Ben incredulously.
    
            "Let me get this straight - you called me all the way over here
    - on a Saturday night, away from my hot date, to tell me that you want
    me to investigate missing cats and dogs?  Do I look like Trixie Beldon
    to you, Benny?"
    
            "I think we have a serious crime our hands here, Ray." "Benny,
    this is the United States, this is Chicago.  Maybe in the Yukon a missing
    dog or cat is reason to call a state of emergency, but down here, a kidnap,
    a murder - now that's a serious crime."
    
            "Ray, I think that Constable Fraser's got a point." Marie-Claire
    said as if it killed her to say it.  "People are accusing the Nguyens
    of killing and eating the animals.  And that's impossible."
            "Why is that impossible?" Ray demanded.
    
            Ben answered first.  "Because they're buddhist, and they're also
    vegetarian."
    
            Marie-Claire looked annoyed at having had the wind taken out
    of her sails.
    
            "I also took the liberty of going through their garbage." Ben
    announced.
    
            Marie-Claire exclaimed indignantly,"I already went through their
    garbage!"
    
            Ben looked a bit taken aback.  Marie-Claire glared back at him.
    Ray looked back and forth between then two of them,"Guys, guys -you two
    obviously have a lot in common. So, did you go through the garbage at
    the same time or different times?  Maybe it's a Canadian bonding thing,
    you know, we have tupperware parties, you guys have garbage rifling parties."
    
            "Who told you I was Canadian?" Marie-Claire demanded, bristling
    in anger.
    
            "The mountie." Ray said with a grin.  Marie-Claire shot him an
    expression of intense dislike.  "Anyone ever tell you talk too much,
    Constable Fraser?"
    
            Ben was profoundly relieved that there was no door handy. "Garbage
    Rifling - I see possibilities. Maybe a national holiday, bring your friends,
    the whole family can do it.  You didn't sniff it, too did you? Benny's
    big on smelling things."
            "It's called olfactory analysis, Ray."
            "It's called Being Disgusting, Benny."
    
            "Could we get back on the topic here?" Marie-Claire demanded
    impatiently.  "And lower your voices, Mrs Nguyen senior is asleep." 
            The three of them sat down at the kitchen table.  Marie-Claire
    felt rumpled in her cardigan and jeans.  The mountie managed to look
    immaculate even though he must have dressed in a hurry and in the dark.
            "There were no bones in the garbage, Ray."
    
           "Oh, do you really think that they would have dumped the cat bones
    and the dog bones in the garbage?" Ray demanded.
    
            "There's no way they could have killed and eaten all the animals
    that have gone missing."
    
            "What's your theory then?  After your wild horse chase, this'll
    be a good one."
            "I was right in that instance, Ray."
    
            "He made ME go through garbage that time," Ray explained to Marie-Claire
    who was beginning to look diverted by the badinage between the two. 
    "And don't forget the time we went through the garbage so that Fraser
    could lick ketchup off iron bars. Yech."  He shuddered in remembrance
    - it was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
    
            "Garbage always tells a story, Ray, I've told you that."  His
    blue eyes were very serious as he spoke.  "I found cat food and dog food
    cans in the garbage."
            "Aha!" Ray exclaimed,"You see?  They did do it!"
    
            "Constable Fraser, perhaps over in the Yukon you forgot this,
    but PEOPLE also tell a story.  I asked the Nguyens about the cans and
    they told me that they like to feed the stray animals - it's part of
    their religion to be kind to poor dumb animals."
    
            Dief who had been watching intently, yelped reproachfully and
    Marie-Claire laughed and apologised.  He licked her hand to demonstrate
    his forgiveness.  "Thank you, Dief." she said hugging him.
    
            Ray sighed,"Okay, okay, I suppose you're going to give me the
    speech about cultural stereotypes...."
    
            Ben spoke,"No, I was not.  In fact, dog is considered a delicacy
    by many Vietnamese people.  It is also highly appreciated in certain
    provinces of China, namely Guangdong in the South of China where it is
    possible to buy....." he trailed off a little lamely at the very chilling
    expression in Marie-Claire's eyes.  "But in this case, the fact that
    they Nguyens are buddhist, clearly rules out any possibility that it
    could have been them who ate the animals.
    
            Furthermore, it would be impossible to capture and slaughter
    so many creatures and leave no trace whatsoever.  The smell and the residue
    would be very difficult to eradicate."
    
            "Furthermore," Marie-Claire interrupted,"Mrs Nguyen couldn't
    even do her laundry let alone murder an animal!  Mrs Nguyen senior is
    bedridden and Mr Nguyen's too busy running a restaurant to be able to
    go around playing vigilante to a bunch of strays."
    
            "He runs a restaurant?" Ray demanded, sitting up, visions of
    Cat Dim Sim and Fried Curried Dog dancing through his head.
    
            "It's a vegetarian restaurant, Ray, the fried rice is excellent,
    I highly recommend it." Ben informed him.
    
            "I like the bean curd rolls better." Marie-Claire said under
    her breath.
            "Too spicy." Ben disagreed.
            "If you can't take the heat....."
    
            "Guys, guys!" Ray interrupted again.  "We're left without a suspect
    then.  Who could be doing this?  I don't recognise the MO - not that
    I'm a big expert on cat and dog napping anyway......hey!  this reminds
    me of something else.....I remember something like this!  A big case
    - all these puppy dogs were going missing.....and some sicko bitch was
    making coats out of their skins......" Ray frowned in concentration,"Was
    it a case?  Maybe it was a detective movie......god I hate it when you
    forget things....." 
    
            Ben and Marie-Claire said nothing.  Both of them looked very
    blank in the midst of Ray's reminiscences.   "Guys help me out here -
    you know the one I mean?  And then they get rescued at the end.....?"
    
            Marie-Claire asked in a strangled voice,"Ray - do you mean '101
    Dalmatians'?"
    
            "Yes!  Exactly!"  Ray exclaimed in heart-felt relief at having
    finally remembered,"What was her name again?"
            "Cruella De Ville." Ben supplied helpfully.
    
            "It was a Disney movie." Marie-Claire pointed out, trying hard
    not to laugh.
    
            Ray looked defensive.  "Hey, she could still provide a very useful
    profile of a psychopath."
    ************************
    Later that same evening...
     
            "I can't believe they called the baby Fraser." Ray said shaking
    his head,"Just imagine this - for the rest of his life, this poor kid
    will have people asking him what his first name is.  Fraser Nguyen -
    he's never gonna to live it down."
    
            "Well if it had been a girl, they were going to call her Elena
    - which is a nice name." Marie-Claire pointed out as she made coffee
    in her kitchen.
    
            "At least it sounds like a first name.  The kid is not going
    to thank you or his parents for giving him a name like that."
    
            Fraser had volunteered to make the coffee and she had turned
    him down.  Fraser and Ray instead stood in the corner and winced in pain
    as they saw the heaped tablespoons of instant coffee that Marie-Claire
    spooned into the waiting mugs.
    
            Perceval eyed the visitors warily, eager to point out that he
    was in charge.
    
            In  particular, each time Fraser attempted to take a seat, Perceval
    would spring gracefully up on to the destined sitting place and sit there
    calmly licking his paws and giving a very contemptuous look at the perplexed
    mountie.
    
            Ray accepted the mug of fragrant coffee, took a sip and choked.
    
            "You could clean sinks with this stuff." He expostulated and
    Marie-Claire sipped at hers,
    
            "This is pretty weak compared with what we drink at the station,
    Ray." she pointed out mildly.
    
            Fraser was drinking his own mug of coffee gamely, not making
    the same faces as Ray.  He could only be grateful that Marie-Claire didn't
    offer them any biscuits or cake.
    
            "I think we need to get the lieutenant's permission to launch
    an investigation, Ray." Ben pointed out.
    
            "He's going to laugh us out of the place.  Agh - what IS that?"
    Ray demanded in revulsion, looking around in an attempt to locate the
    atrocity. 
            "It's the Village People - don't you know it?" Marie-Claire inquired
    as the music played softly through the speakers.
    
            '' the Village
    people sang with considerable joie de vivre and Ray looked revolted.
    
            "Yech." he said, shuddering.  "You're lucky you're deaf." he
    told Dief who opened a sleepy eyelid momentarily and then closed it again.
    
            "If this goes on much longer - who knows what will happen to
    the Nguyens." Benton pointed out.  "The case needs to be solved and the
    real culprits brought to justice.  Only then will the Nguyens' persecutors
    leave them in peace."
    
            "True." Marie-Claire mumbled reluctantly into her coffee.  "So
    Ray, what happened to your hot date?"
            "Huh?" Ray demanded in confusion.
    
            "You said that this call had pulled you away from your hot date.
    What's her name?"
    
            Ray cleared his throat,"I said that I WOULD have had a hot date
    if you guys hadn't called me away." he said meticulously and Marie-Claire
    chuckled.  Ray changed the subject hastily.  "So Benny, did you get any
    data back on that bag you had taken to the lab?"
    
            "Not yet, it appears that it wasn't placed high on their list
    of priorities." Benton said gravely.
            "I wonder why." Ray said sarcastically.
    
            Benton stared at Perceval.  The mangey cat glared back.  "In
    fact, at this present moment in time, Perceval appears to be our only
    witness and piece of evidence."
            Ray snorted.  "Some witness."
    **************
    
            The station was as chaotic and crowded as ever with gum-chewing
    prostitutes glowering at uniformed officers while the scuffed linoleum
    acquired more and more scuffs as the day grew longer.        Lieutenant
    Welsh was looking harassed in his office.
    
            "Vecchio, you can't seriously expect me to mobilise valuable
    resources to chase down dogs and cats........in fact, what is it with
    you and animals? Wasn't it horses last time?"
    
            "And if you will remember, sir, we solved the case and those
    responsible were apprehended."
    
            Huey and Louis were making dog and cat noises in the corner.
    "Arf arf Vecchio - finally finding your soulmates?" Louis demanded with
    the air of a Cavalier Wit from the court of King Charles II.
    
            Ray turned to retort but Fraser interceded smoothly and with
    great diplomacy, "If you will permit me to speak, sir," he began courteously.
    "This case also has another dimension which Detective Vecchio and I both
    believe to be of great importance.
    
            The neighbourhood has turned somewhat ugly in its response and
    there have been a great many unfounded accusations levelled at the Nguyens,
    a Vietnamese family who live in my apartment building.        It is quite
    possible, sir, that you may have a racial incident on your hands.  On
    numerous occasions, they have been the victims of harassment and property
    damage."
    
            Fraser's eloquence left the lieutenant unmoved, he'd heard so
    much of it in the past and he looked at the mountie sceptically.  "Don't
    you have anything to do? Why are you always playing  Robin Hood?" he
    demanded. 
    
            "With all due respect, sir, Robin Hood was an outlaw.  I would
    hope that I act within the law and with the utmost respect for its strictures.
    I believed that the rule of law is a fundamental tenet of our society."
    
            The lieutenant looked impressed despite himself,"Can I borrow
    that next time I have to give a speech?" he asked.
            "Certainly, sir.  I would be honoured."
    
            "Where was I?" the lieutenant demanded as he stared into Fraser's
    impassive face.  "Oh right - dogs and cats.  Vecchio, you and the mountie
    are on your own on this one."
    
            "You're forgetting the wolf, sir." Louis pointed out with a smirk
    on his smug face.   The lieutenant grimaced,"How could I forget the wolf?"
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART H
    
            Fraser and Ray walked from the office. "Benny, was it strictly
    necessary to go into all that rule of law stuff?" Fraser looked faintly
    surprised,"Didn't you study jurisprudence at the academy?  Jurisprudential
    studies are an integral part of RCMP training."
    
            "Benny, didn't anyone tell you that you're just supposed to cram
    for the exams and then go onto more important things?"
    
            He waited patiently while accepted a mug of chamomile tea,"Thank
    you kindly Hugo," Ben said politely. "The point is that we're left with
    nothing again.   Where's Marie-Claire?"
    
            "She's waiting outside with  Diefenbaker.  Dief's presence tends
    to somewhat irritate the lieutenant."
    
            "Is she your girlfriend?" Elaine inquired as she materialised
    from nowhere.
            "I beg your pardon, Elaine?" Fraser inquired.
    
            "The red-haired girl with your wolf out the front," Elaine asked,
    indicating with her thumb.
    
            Fraser who had been in the act of raising his mug of tea to his
    lips looked horrified.  "You mean Miss Dempsey?  Oh no, she's my neighbour......"
    
            Elaine looked mollified,"You sure?  Ray says she's Canadian."
    Ray said impatiently,
    
            "Elaine, not all Canadians are related or going out! Now can
    you get your mind back on more important matters.  Did you scare anything
    up on the records about missing animals?"
    
            "There's nothing between us." Fraser added.  He glanced at Marie-Claire
    through the windows and she scowled at him.        "Nothing at all."
    he continued, looking very shaken at Elaine's words.
    
            "Benny, snap out of it.  You, too Elaine." he told Elaine who
    was looking a little mournful.
    
            "Yeah, animals aren't just going missing in your neighbourhood
    Fraser, it's happening all over the place.  Come over here and I'll show
    you the map."
            "Thank you kindly, Elaine."
    
            "Lab results came up with zip on the bag." Ray announced as he
    and Fraser walked outside to where Marie-Claire was waiting with Dief.
    
            She was playing a game in which she  held out her hand and Dief
    snapped at it, biting gently when she was too slow.
    
            "I'd be careful of that if I were you." Ray said, looking a little
    apprehensive as the wolf closed his jaws over Marie-Claire's hands gently.
    
            "He wouldn't hurt me," Marie-Claire said in a sickening smoochy
    voice to the wolf who looked up at her with adoring eyes.
    
            "He never does that to me, Benny," Ray complained to Ben,"He
    steals my donuts and doesn't even say thank you....although he hasn't
    been stealing them lately." he said reflectively.
    
            "There's a reason for that," Fraser said unexpansively and Marie-Claire
    sniffed.
    
            "What did your boss say, Ray?  Are you getting any help on this
    one?"
    
            Ray shook his head,"No, he said it's just us - and the wolf."
    he said with a grimace.
    
            "That's it." Fraser said suddenly.  He looked meaningfully at
    his wolf who looked at him balefully, reading his master's mind.  "Dief
    can go undercover."
            "You mean bait." Ray said flatly.
    
            Fraser looked slightly offended,"Of course not.  Diefenbaker
    is a highly trained animal.  Lupuses are extremely intelligent - Dief
    is perfectly capable of handling himself in any situation, Ray."
    
            "He's got a point, but how would you feel about being bundled
    into a bag?" Marie-Claire inquired, cupping Dief's muzzle in her hands
    and looking into his eyes.  He made a rather disgruntled sound. "I thought
    so." she said in agreement.
    
            Ray threw up his hands,"So you're going to let your wolf walk
    around in the street until he gets wolf-napped?  Are you out of your
    frozen-snow-capped mind?"
    
            "Naturally not, we'll have to do a little more research.  We'll
    be lying in wait to follow where they take him."
    
            Ray looked at the wolf,"Great, an undercover wolf.  You're not
    seriously suggesting I put a wire on him, are you?"
    
            "That's just silly, Ray." Ben said absently.  "I suggest we find
    Willie." Ben said abruptly.        Marie-Claire and Ray stared at him.
    
            "What?"
    
            "Willie knows the streets around the apartment very well, he's
    naturally inquisitive and notices anything out of the ordinary."
    
            "Oh yeah?  So why didn't he say anything before?" Ray demanded
    sceptically.
    
            "We didn't ask, Ray, we didn't ask." Ben replied as he strode
    off. Ray looked at Marie-Claire.  She shrugged.  After a moment's hesitation,
    they followed.
    ***************
    
            Willie lounged back negligently in his seat looking pretty pleased
    with himself for having three grownups hanging on to his every word.
    
            "Anything out of the ordinary, huh?" Willie demanded, scratching
    his head, looking very contemplative - a look which was completely spurious.
    
            "Yeah kid, have you seen anyone bagging cats and dogs?" Ray demanded.
    Willie looked rather disdainful of such roughshod interrogation techniques.
    Subtlety was required.
            "Can I have another milkshake?" he demanded.
    
            "MAY I have another milkshake." Marie-Claire corrected automatically
    and she and Fraser signalled for another milkshake at the same time,
    both stopping and staring foolishly with their hands in the air.
    
            "That's OK, I want two." Willie said, beaming seraphically. With
    two milkshakes ensconced in front of him Willie was happy.
            "This is blackmail." Ray grumbled.
    
            "Consider Willie to be a reputable source, Ray." Fraser said
    consolingly.
            "The kid's robbing us blind." Ray complained.
    
            "So what do you know, Willie?" Marie-Claire invited the young
    boy who leaned forward and said in a dramatic whisper.
            "There's this kid named Pete."
    
            "And?" Marie-Claire encouraged and Willie paused until he had
    their attention.
            "He's got this dog that's been cut up pretty bad."
            "Ew," Ray exclaimed,"How?"
    
            "He won't say - but I ain't never seen a dog that looked worse
    than this dog." Willie announced.
    
            "That's it?" Ray demanded.  "You paid two milkshakes and a hamburger
    for that?" he demanded indignantly and Ben raised a hand to silence Ray,
    
            "Could we speak to Pete?"
    **********************
    
              "I don't know anything." Pete denied bluntly and quailed a
    little under the stares of three adults and a wolf.
    
            "What's the dog's name?" Ben asked conversationally, stroking
    the Terrier's fur.
            "Grunt." Pete said reluctantly."he's mine."
    
           "He looks like he's had it hard for a while."Ray observed. 
            "I'm taking care of him now."Pete protested."He'll be fine."
    
           "Yes, but the other animals that have been abducted, will
    not."Fraser pointed out."We need your help."
    
           Pete took a deep breath, pulling Grunt from Fraser's arms. He
    stroked the thin fur on the full pink belly of the contented Terrier.
    His face contorted into a mask of panic and anger.
         "But you've got to stop them for good."He pointed out.
         "We will."Fraser assured."I promise."
         "Okay, but I was lost."Pete pointed out.
    
          "Tell me what you saw, what you smelled, leave nothing out."Fraser
    toned, his voice lulling and hypnotic. Under Fraser direction, they were
    able to garner several key points about his location from Pete.
    **************
    
            A few hours later, they went to a coffe shop, mulling over Pete's
    crytic descriptions.
    
            "Ray, why have you got that expression on your face?" Marie-Claire
    demanded as he glanced at Ray in the coffeeshop.
    
            "Oh now we get the tracking scene." Ray informed Marie-Claire
    as Fraser sat there with an abstracted expression on his face.
            "The tracking scene?"
    
            "Yeah." Ray told her,"You know - he does a sort of mysterious
    guru routine and hey presto! he comes up with the answers."
    
            Marie-Claire munched on the remains of her cake and asked,"Do
    you mean like the bit in every episode of the A-team where they make
    something?"
    
            Ray frowned.  "No, not quite like that.  I mean, Benny here doesn't
    make nuclear bombs out of fertiliser or soy sauce - but he sort of hypothesises."
    
            "Hmmm, sounds interesting." Marie-Claire said a little sceptically.
    "Does he need special music like the A-team did? you know - like a theme
    song?"
    
            "Hey there's a thought," Ray said, looking diverted when Fraser
    didn't seem ready to come out of his contemplations yet.  "Benny - do
    you want to us to sing for you until decide to rejoin us?"
    
            "Pete said that it was a large building with many occupants -
    and large barrels.  Also he was trying to take a shortcut from his school
    back home via the back alleys." Fraser thought aloud.
    
            Fraser turned to the waitress who was hovering at his elbow attentively,"Excuse
    me, miss."
            "More coffee?" she asked hopefully.
    
            "I was wondering whether you might happen to have a map of the
    area around here somewhere?"
    
            The young girl looked at Fraser with wide eyes.  "Ummm, a map?"
    she wondered aloud,"I'll go and check out back."
    
            In the meanwhile, Marie-Claire ordered another round of coffee.
    
            "Well at least we know why the animals are being stolen now."
    She said sipping her coffee.
    
            "Yeah the Animal Liberationists are going to wanna know about
    this one." Ray said grimly.  "The gall of that?  stealing people's pooches
    out of their homes!"
    
            "Well I'm glad that the Nguyens will finally be exonerated -
    I think I'll go and spike Mrs Trapp's blue hair dye." Marie-Claire said
    judiciously.
    
            "Ewww, so vicious." Ray said with a grin and turned to where
    Ben was frowning over the maps.
    
            Ray peeked at the page.  "Hey no way,' he pointed out.  "The
    kid's school is here, he must have really wandered out of his way in
    order to get home."
    
            "There IS an industrial area here, though Ray." Fraser pointed
    out. 
            "Who's to say how far off track Pete might have wandered." Marie-Claire
    suggested.
    
            "Still," Ray pointed out practically,"Look how many factories
    are here  - there's dozens of them.  How are we going to find our way
    there?" 
            Fraser folded up the map and thanked the waitress courteously.
    "That would be our best lead at this point then."Fraser stood, taking
    a few bills of Canadian money from his wallet.  Ray snorted in disguist,
    slapping at his hand.
      "I'll get it."Ray grumbled. Marie-Clare looked at Ray, then up to Fraser's
    handsome face.
      "You know, in the interest of promoting better country relations, you
    should start carring American currency."Marie-Clare chided the tall mountie.
    Fraser's eyebrows rose into his hat band, and a flush crept slowly upwards
    from his collar.
      "I..You, of course, are correct."Fraser tucked the money back inside
    his wallet. Ray stared at Benny, then back to Marie-Clare.
            He rose and headed to the car.
    
           "How come you always know the right thing to say?"Ray whispered,
    his breath soft against her ear, and her nose was tickled by the masculian
    touch of Polo. Marie-Clare flushed,  ducking her head.
    
              Opening the shop door, Ray and Marie-Claire looked at each
    other and started humming the tune to the A-team as they followed Fraser
    out to the Riv where Dief was waiting impatiently.
    .        "Let us consider what information we have - little as it is,"
    Fraser told them.  "The venue would, by necessity, need to be sufficiently
    large to house all the spectators and the animals themselves.
    
            Now large-scale dog-fights would be very conspicuous by their
    noise and the stench of dying animals - hence, it would need to be one
    of the most remote factories or warehouses."
    
            Ray frowned,"That still leaves us with about half a dozen places
    on the edge of town it could be."
    
            "Disposal of bodies." Marie-Claire said from the back where she
    was playing with Dief.  "Could you pass me a pencil and paper?" she asked
    and Fraser obliged.
    
            "Miss Dempsey is right." Fraser pointed out.  "Consider the magnitude
    of this operation.  What do they do with the dead animals after the fights?"
            "Bury them?"
    
            "The industrial area on the edge of town is a concrete jungle,
    Ray - it's not feasible for them to bury all the animals."
    
            "Incinerators." Marie-Claire suggested,"We look for a place with
    an incinerator?"
    
            "Good guess." Fraser nodded. "But you must remember that the
    factories on the outskirts of the area are largely abandoned.  To have
    a working incinerator would call undue attention to the operation." 
            Ray frowned.
    
            "The barrels." Marie-Claire exclaimed as she wrote furiously
    in her notebook.
    
            "What about the barrels?" Ray demanded,"Soap, wine - what were
    they?" 
            "Acid." Fraser told him.  "It is one way to dispose of the bodies
    - dissolve the carcasses in acid."
    
            "Ewwwww." Ray said in distaste.  "But it makes sense, the old
    ***** factory manufactured industrial strength acids until the company
    went bust a few years back.  The liquidators never got round to selling
    the place off."
    
           Fraser raised his eyebrows at them, holding the car door open
    for her. Ray held her hand, helping her in the back."I'll drop you off
    at home."   "Oh no, you won't."She venemiantly protested."The mountie
    couldn't keep from dragging me into this, your not dumping me now that
    it's getting interesting."
      "She has a point, Ray."Fraser pointed out guilty."I did..."
      "Shut up."Ray snapped, rolling his eyes."What else could happen today?
    Marie-Claire settled into the back seat, with a smug smile on her lithe
    face. 
    
    ****************
    
             It wasn't hard to find the old factory, with most of the area
    being rundown, and closed. Finding a dark spot was easy,  Ray parked
    the Riv some distance away from the factory and the four of them crept
    towards the entrance. When they were inside the building, Ray took Marie-Clare
    aside.   "Stay close, and keep your head down."Ray ordered."You might
    get hurt."   "I didn't know you cared."She teased him. Reaching out,
    Ray pulled her tight, giving her a passionate, but far too brief kiss.
    Ray broke away, creeping after Fraser.
      "I don't."He remarked off hand."But if you get shot, I'll probably
    get canned."
      "Sure."Maire-Clare was too stunned to come back with any thing incredably
    smart.
    
             Fraser sniffed the air and indicated that they follow him. 
            Creeping down a dank stairway their noses prickled at a sharp
    acrid smell and they looked down into basins containing a something that
    they might prefer not to identify.
    
            Ray was holding his nose and spoke somewhat nasally,"Benny, I'll
    bet that's acid, for and heaven's sake - don't go tasting it, it'll burn
    your skin off!"
    
            "The smell alone is sufficient to identify it, Ray." Ben said
    seriously as he scanned the unsavoury soup.
    
            Dief was looking very uneasy and Marie-Claire said,"Maybe I should
    take Dief out of here."
    
            "That could be a good idea.  Animals are very quick to sense
    the distress of others." Benton said.  "Animals in a slaughteryard always
    grow very agitated."
    
            "That's because they're going to be dead." Ray pointed out, holding
    his service revolver in his hand.
    
            "Yeah that, too." Marie-Claire pointed out.  "Ummm - how were
    you two thinking of apprehending everyone by the way?  I just realised
    that we're grossly outnumbered."
            "This is true, Benny."
    
            Ben stiffened, his eyes growing alert.  "Follow me," he ordered
    he headed further downstairs down an even darker passageway.
    
            The sound of animals grew louder and Marie-Claire put a hand
    to her mouth as she smelt the stench of animals confined in an airless
    area. 
            They entered a containment area filled with tiny cages which
    held numerous dogs and cats prisoner.
    
            "These cages are too small for them." Marie-Claire said in distress.
    
            Dief made a low growing voice in his throat, shrinking back against
    Ray's legs.
    
            Ray patted the wolf's head with sympathy, glancing around,"There
    there," he said in adequately,"Cover your eyes, boy." he told the wolf
    who looked around in distress.
    
            "These animals haven't been fed in days." Fraser said grimly
    after inspecting several of the animals.
    
            "Benny, what's the point of these little guys then?" Ray demanded,
    indicating the undersized dogs and the cats.  "Not that the bozos responsible
    for this are into fair play - but what is the excitement in seeing a
    big dog mawl a cat?"
    
            "I'd gather from what Pete told us that the smaller, weaker animals
    are used to blood the fighting dogs - to make them vicious." Fraser told
    his friend.
    
            "There's someone coming." Fraser said urgently and the four of
    them bolted behind a pile of wooden crates in the corner just as three
    men walked into the room.
    
               He stared rattling the cages of the animals that had begun
    to whine. "Shut up, you little bastards!"
      Dief stepped into the walkway, teeth bared, and growling.
      "Aww, nuts."Ray slapped his forehead.
      "How did you get out?"the man asked Dief, mistaking him for another
    dog.   "He didn't escape."Fraser stated, standing up. He smashed his
    fist into the mans jaw with his right fist, immedialty followed up by
    a left upcut. The man wobbled, blood dripping from his spilt lower lip.
    With a gurgle of incoherency, and rolling eyes, he toppled over. Ray
    pulled out his cuffs, then smiled evily.
      "Benny, drag him over here."Ray ordered, opening a medium sized cage."And
    give me one of your socks."
    
             "Do you hear something?"Maire-Clare asked, one hand on the ruff
    of Dief's neck. The large wolf growled, trying to pull away. Maire-Clare
    held tightly, bending over him."Hold still. If you run away, we'll never
    catch the bad guys, you'll give us away!"
    
       Dief settled down, flashing her a hurt look. Fraser cocked his head,
    relacing his boot."Upstairs, I believe. The fight has started."
      "Damn it, I have to radio this in."Ray muttered, pocketing the man's
    gun."you have to stay here."
      "Like fudge I will."Marie-Claire retorted.
      "Look, they have guns. Guns have bullets. Bullets KILL people!"Ray
    bellowed.   "Don't play macho with me, Armondo!"Marie-Claire roared back.
      "This isn't playing, Marie."Ray calmed,running his hand over the top
    of his hair."You could get killed."
      "I'll take the chance."Maire-Clare smiled wickedly at him."Besides,
    I could pretended to be one of the pit watchers."
      "Oh Yeah, you look like the criminal sort."Ray snorted.
      "I could be."Maire-Clare weakliy protested, looking to Benton for support.
    "No, I don't believe you could."he replied.
      "Don't push me."Maire snorted, following Ray. Dief lagged at her heels,
    giving Fraser a pitiful look. Benton spoke softly, concern in his eyes.
    "Protect her, Diefenbaker."
      Dief wolfed his agreement.
    ****
    
    BEING NEIGHBORLY:  PART I
    
    The top of the stairs blossumed into a huge room, with a caged area in
    the middle. It was small and slick with blood. Two large dogs were tearing
    each other apart, the holwing of men and dying animals covering up their
    entrance. Ray grimaced, it was nasty, but he'd seen worse. Marie-Clare
    froze at the top of the stairs, a gasp escaping her mouth. Fraser eased
    past, leading her off to a corner.
      "Please, find a phone, Maire-Claire."He frowned at the large crowd."This
    may turn unpleasant."
      "How much more unpleasant can it get?"Maire-Claire snapped. Fraser
    pointed to the cage, his mouth a grim line.
      "Dief could be next, or Ray and myself."Fraser turned back to her."Men
    who have gone this far over the line will not care who dies for their
    pleasure. Wiether it is man or animal.Or woman."
      "Be careful."Marie-Claire hissed, before heading for the closed rooms.
    Fraser crossed over to Ray, as they began to formulate a plan.
      "I am not sure how to stop this and them at the same time."Fraser pointed
    to the fighting pit and the roaring men. Ray pulled his gun firing it
    into the air. The men froze, turning aound alowly.
    
        "Put 'em up. All of you."Ray comanded."The first one who wavers gets
    a really big hole for their trouble."
        "Wavers?"Fraser asked.
        Ray shrugged."You're rubbing off on me."
      "You can't get us all."Someone yelled from the back. The two large
    dogs kept fighting, being ignored by the crowd.
      "True,"Ray nodded."But who wants to be the first to take a bullet?"
    Fraser began to make his way to the cage, as Ray was lining men up against
    the wall.
      "That's right, hands on the wall, legs spread. You move, I'm gonna
    shoot ya."   "Ray, I think I can stop the dogs."Fraser opened the cage,
    as Ray's turned, eyes wide.
      "Fraser, NO!"Ray yelled, as Denny swung his arm at Ray's turned face.
    The blow caught Ray below the ear, popping his jaw. He stumbled back,
    as the fighting animals  escaped the tiny confines. One dog lept out,
    catching Fraser in the chest. Knocking him off his feet, Fraser wrapped
    his arms around the struggling dog, attempting to calm the wounded animal.
    The other dog, grabbed Fraser by the boot, clamping down with steel trap
    jaws. Even through the thick sole, Fraser winced at the pinching of his
    foot.   Ray  stumbled backwards, seeing black spots. Balling up his fist,
    he struck Denny in the nose, feeling the man's large probiscus shatter
    beneath the force of the blow. Coming from the office, Maire Calire picked
    up a large peice of wood from the floor, walking out of the shadows.
    Another man started towards Ray, and she clobbered him across the back
    of his head. He went down like a felled tree, and  Marie-Claire brandished
    her weapon at the remaining men.
      "Any other takers?"She warned, as Ray popped his jaw back into place.
    Diefenbaker streaked from her side, grabbing the dog mauling Fraser's
    boot by the neck. Dragging the smaller dog away, Diefenbaker squeezed
    until the other dog accquessed, rolling over on it's back. Diefenbaker
    allowed it to lick his muzzle, and began to growl at the dog still struggling
    in Fraser's arms. It wimpered, freezing in terror. Fraser regained his
    footing, limping slightly from the ruined boot.
      "Did you get lost?"Fraser asked the wolf, who was basking in the attention
    from the other dog. Dief wrinkled his canine forehead, then turned to
    look at Maire-Claire."She looks like she is handling the problem quite
    well by herself."
      Deif whined, then bounded off down the stairs. The two injured dogs
    followed him with wagging tails. Fraser cocked his head, then walked
    over to Ray and Marie-Claire.
      "I can hear sirens coming this way."
      "I talked to Elaine."Maire-Claire smiled."I think we'll have a nice
    rescue."   "Who needs to be rescued?"Ray grumbled, shaking out his stiffening,
    bruised hand.
    ************
    
            Ray glared at Denny and his unsavoury companions, rubbing his
    knuckles.
    
            "Oh, and P.S. - you guys are going away for a long time!" Ray
    called out as the men were led away by the uniformed officers.    Ben
    felt compelled to point out,
    
            "Umm Ray, PS is an abbreviation for the Latin 'post script'.
    It means 'after writing', which technically speaking would render it
    inappropriate for use in oral conversation.
    
            Although, let me add that I am the first to admit that English
    is a dynamic language which is amenable to much change and flexibility.
    However, one most deplore the certain laxity which exists today, particularly
    in the lexicon of the youth of America....."
    
            "Benny!  You're giving me Latin again? You know I hate it when
    you talk about that entomology stuff."
    
            "Actually it is a common misperception that entymology is the
    study of the history of words.  That is in fact etymology.  Entymology
    is the study of the behaviour and form of insects, such as - "
    
            "Okay, okay! Just shut up!  I've had it with you and all your
    medieval Latin."
    
            "Actually Ray, it comes from the modern Latin, entomologia."
    Ray looked over at Marie-Claire for assistance,"Now I know why you slam
    doors in his face."
    
            "You told him I slam doors in your face?"Marie-Claire demanded."Do
    you tell him EVERYTHING?" she demanded, her voice rising in indignation."No
    wonder everyone thinks you're gay."
    
            She walked away in disgust. Ray stiffened.  "GAY????  Who thinks
    we're GAY????!  No one thinks I'm GAY!!!!."   He looked outraged, every
    iota of his machismo and testosterone challenged by Marie-Claire's careless
    quip. 
            He quivered with indignation,"She doesn't know what she's talking
    about."
    
            "I think she was joking, Ray." Ben pointed out, with what might
    have been a slight tremor of laughter in his voice.  "And actually, the
    word 'gay' itself is an interesting example of the dynamics of the English
    language.  It's original meaning to be happy and joyful, has now been
    rendered virtually obsolete.  I think it is a very interesting
    phenomenon........"
            "You're making me fun of me Benny - I can tell."
            "No Ray, I'd never do that."  Ben assured him gravely.
            "I hope she slams another door in your face."
    
            "I'm sure she will, Ray, I'm sure she will."   Ben told his friend
    as the two of them walked away.
    *********************
    Marie-Claire waited for Kiri Te Kanawa's soaring soprano to finish singing
    "O Mio Babbino Caro", perhaps one of the most overplayed Puccini arias
    in the world.  Somehow it remained one of the most poignant for her,
    though and she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, dreaming
    her own thoughts and lost in her own private world, far away from the
    dingy, rundown radio station.
    
            She opened her eyes again and glanced down at her hands, seeing
    the empty coffee mugs in front of her and the notepad with the scrawled
    requests from her loyal listeners.
    
            "That was "O Mio Babbino Caro" - translated to be "O My Beloved
    Daddy", definitely melodramatic, but one of my favourite arias
    nonetheless."
    
            Marie-Claire sighed a little, it had been a long week and it
    was hard to get the stench of the dying animals out of her nostrils.
    It was impossible to rid herself of the memories of the dying animals
    who had been the innocent victims of a sick notion of profit.
    
            She segued up Loreena McKennit's 'Huron Beltane Fire Dance' as
    she wondered what she was going to say next.  Her mind was momentarily
    blank, her worst nightmare.
    
            It was times like these she wondered whether Hal was right in
    suggesting a script.  No, Hal was never right.  He had been delighted
    with her story on the dog-fighting racket, though.
    
            AIR105 had been the very first to air the story and the papers
    and television news had been scrambling to get the inside story.  By
    then it was too late, the culprits had already been led away and Marie-Claire
    had already grilled everyone concerned and put together a story which
    might be a little more sensational than the traffic and weather reports
    in which the station normally specialised - but so long as the ratings
    went up, Hal didn't mind.  Actually, considering how low the station's
    ratings were, there really was only one way they could go.
    
            Marie-Claire opened her mouth, closed it again as she had absolutely
    no idea what on earth she wanted to say.  Then suddenly, dreamily she
    began to recount a story which had been nagging at the edges of her subconscious
    all evening like a persistant whisper.
    
            "At the beginning when the earth was new, the animals were the
    chief and were more powerful than humans, whom they hunted, killed and
    ate - except one girl and her little brother who lived in hiding."
    
            Fraser was sitting in his apartment in the darkness, Dief at
    his feet.  The radio was on and only Marie-Claire's low-pitched voice
    with its unique cadence filled the room.  He knew the story, but it had
    never meant more than than it did at that moment.  Marie-Claire's voice
    was like thick, rich cream - on air anyway.
    
            "The brother was very small, no bigger than a newborn child,
    but the girl was normal in size.  Because she was so much bigger than
    he was, she did all of the work.  One winter day the girl had to go out
    and gather food in the woods.  To keep Little Brother occupied, she gave
    him her bow and arrows.  'Hide until a snowbird comes,' she told him.
    'Wait until he looks for grubs in that huge dead tree and then kill him
    with one of your arrows.'
    
            Dief stirred momentarily, slightly perplexed by the stillness
    of his master who did not move an inch as the story unfolded on the airwaves
    in the silent hours of the morning.  He looked up inquiringly and Fraser
    scratched his wolf's head absently.
    
            "The girl went off and the snowbird came, but Little brother's
    arrows missed him.  'It doesn't matter,' the sister said when she returned.
    'Try again tomorrow.'  The next day she went into the forest again. 
    Once more the bird came, and this time the boy's arrow hit and killed
    him. Proudly he showed the bird to his sister when she returned home
    that night. 
            'Sister, I want you to skin the snowbird and stretch the hide,'
    he said.  'I'll be killing more birds, and when we have enough skins,
    you can make a feather robe for me.'
    
            'But what should I do with the meat?' asked the girl.  At that
    time people ate only berries and other green things, because they didn't
    hunt; it was the animals who hunted them."
    
            Ray yawned widely as he sat scrunched up in his car in front
    of the stakeout.   He was tempted to give Marie-Claire a ring and tell
    her to can the preachy stories and somnolent music and play something
    loud like Nine Inch Nails to keep him awake.
    
            He shifted uncomfortably, keeping awake with great difficulty
    as he watched the entrance to Lenny the Squid's doorway.  He wondered
    how long the little creep would be inside.  It had been hours already.
    
            He groaned when Marie-Claire continued and the music in the background
    was a somewhat mournful Irish ceilidh.  He couldn't fathom her weird
    tastes in music, only a few hours back she had been playing Wham's 'Wake
    Me Up Before You Go Go' which had kept him awake, but put him in a thoroughly
    bad-temper.
    
            "'Make soup out of it,'" said Little Brother, who was clever
    in spite of his size.  Every day for ten days he shot a snowbird, and
    his sister made him a fine feather robe from the skins.
    
            'Sister, are there no other people in this world?' he asked one
    day.  'Are we the only ones.'
    
            'There may be others, but we don't dare go looking for them.
    Terrible animals would stalk and kill us.'  But Little Brother was consumed
    with curiosity.  So when his sister went off to gather food again, he
    set out to look for other humans.  He walked a long time but met neither
    people or animals.  He got so tired that he lay down in a spot where
    the sun had melted the snow away.  While he was sleeping the sun rose
    and shot fiery rays upon Little Brother.  Waking up, the boy found that
    his father robe had scorched and tightend around him so taht he couldn't
    move.  To free himself he had to tear it apart, ruining it.
    
            'Sun, I'll get even! Dont' think you're up so high that I can't
    get at you!  Do you hear me up there?'"
    
            Marie-Claire's mimicry of an indignant young boy was so accurate
    that Dief could see that Fraser's mouth curved in a faint smile.  His
    head tipped to one side, still trying to understand the joke and then
    gave up, resting his head back down upon his paws.
    
            "Angry and sad, Little Brother returned home and wept when he
    told his sister of what had happened.  He lay on his right side for 10
    days and refused to eat or drink.  Still fasting, he then lay on his
    left side for another ten.  After twenty days of fasting, he rose and
    told his sister to make a snare for him to catch the sun.  She had nothing
    more than a short length of dried deer sinew, and out of that she made
    a noose.  'I can't catch the sun with this little thing," he complained.
    
            So the girl made a string for him out of her hair, but he said,'This
    isn't long or strong enough.'
    
            'Then I'll have to make a snare out of something secret,' she
    said. She went out and gathered many secret things and twisted them into
    a strong cord.  The moment he saw it, Little Brother said,'This is the
    one!' To wet the cord he drew it to his lips again and again so that
    it grew longer and stronger.
    
            Then Little Brother waited until the middle of the night when
    it is darkest."
    
            Marie-Claire's voice grew low and hushed and she forgot to segue
    up anymore music as the story unfolded and she, too became caught up
    in her own words.  The lines were quiet, all the callers lying at home
    tucked up in bed, their blankets up to their chins, eyes wide and staring
    up at their ceilings.
    
            A few die-hard Joe listeners mourned his absence and hoped and
    prayed for the day when he and Michael Bolton would return to the dark
    hours of the morning.  Nonetheless, as the lonely hearts sulked, they
    listened intently, occasionally muttering under their breaths.
    
            'He went out and found the hole through which the sun would rise,
    and at its entrance he set his snare.  When the sun came up at the usual
    time, he was caught and held fast, and there was no day that day.  There
    was no light and no warmth.
    
            Even though the animals were the chiefs who had killed and eaten
    the people, they were afraid.  They called a council of all their elders
    and talked for a long time.  At last they decided that the biggest and
    most fearsome of the animals should go and gnaw through the cord holding
    the sun.  This animal was the Dormouse, who was not small, as it is now,
    but big as a mountain.  Even so, Dormouse was afraid of the sun.  'What
    you want me to do is dangerous, but I shall try,' she said said bravely.
    
            Ray's eyelids drooped inexorably as his head nodded and his chin
    found his chest.  His thoughts began to travel into a dream world, a
    world far away from over-sized Dormice and unfortunate suns.  Lenny the
    Squid was still in that joint, perhaps he was dead.  Perhaps he had been
    listening to Marie-Claire and had fallen into a coma and required life-support.
    
            The news had been interesting though. Marie-Claire had given
    a very detailed account of the horrific treatment of the unfortunate
    animals in question.  The station was finding good homes for the animals
    concerned - a shameless promotional ploy, competitors thought balefully.
    Ray had even given a phone interview - which had been cut out of the
    story when the story did go to air, but that was only because the interference
    on the mobile made things incoherent.  He fell deeper into sleep as Marie-Claire
    continued her neverending story.
    
            "Dormouse went to the place where the sun rises and found him
    in the snare.  Struggling to free himself, the sun had grown hotter.
    As Dormouse aproached, the hair on her back smoked and was burnt off,
    but she crouched down and began to gnaw at the cord.  She chewed and
    chewed and after a long time managed to bit it in two.
    
            Freed at last, the sun rose at once and made everything bright
    again.  But the heat had shrivelled Dormouse down to her present size,
    and the sun's rays had half-blinded her.  So she was given the name of
    Kug-e-been-gwa-kwa, Blind Woman.
    
            Thorugh brave Dormouse had freed the sun, everybody realised
    that Little Brother who had snared the sun was the wisest being in the
    world, and the one with the greatest power."
    
            Marie-Claire hesitated for a moment, she had only just remembered
    how the story finished.  Only just recollected its ending and her mouth
    twisted wryly as she realised why she had begun the story in the first
    place.
    
            "Since that time the humans have been the chiefs over the animals,
    the hunters instead of the hunted."
    
            The silence on the air lasted a few heartbeats and then the phonelines
    began to light up.
    
            "I'd like to order a pizza, no anchovies, those black things
    or those green things." the caller announced imperiously.
    
            "Wrong number," Marie-Claire announced as she switched to line
    two. 
            "The story I just told you was an American Indian Legend called
    'Little Brother Snares the Sun.'" she answered the fellow insomniac caller,
    as she hunted around for an appropriate song to play.
    
            Finally she settled for Joan Baez singing 'Silver Dagger' and
    returned her attention to talkback.
            "The story is attributed to the Winnebago....."
    
            Ray's eyes snapped open convulsively as he jerked into a sitting
    position, knocking his tepid coffee over.
            "What the....?" he demanded of the air.
    
            ".......a midwestern woodlands tribe who sided with the British
    in the War of 1812 and the War of Independence." Marie-Claire continued
    as Ray put his hand to his head.  He hadn't had a Winnebago dream for
    days.  If it had persisted for much longer he would have had to seek
    therapy.
    
            As it was Elena had suggested visualisation techniques, deep
    breaths before he went to bed, imagining his place of peace and
    tranquility......with no winnebagos.
    
            Thoroughly disturbed Ray glanced up and saw that Lenny the Squid
    was finally emerging from his hideaway.
    
            "It's getting late, and I'm getting out of here...." Marie-Claire
    was saying on the air and Ray shook his head.  There was some weird,
    cosmic link between Marie-Claire and winnebagos.  He wasn't a superstitious
    man, but it was immediately after his dreams of winnebagos had commenced
    that she had appeared on the scene. There just had to be a connection.
    
            "The eagle has landed," he said into his mobile-phone, after
    waking up Huey and Gardino who had been playing snap in the patrol car
    around the corner.
    
            Marie-Claire made her way slowly up the stairs.  Hal had called
    up complaining that she had bored him witless with her flaky Indian stories.
    
            "Sorry Hal, next time I'll read out the condensed novel in Cosmopolitan
    magazine."
    
            "I'll have you know I didn't appreciate that crack about Michael
    Bolton you made at the end of the show."
    
            "Which crack was that?" Marie-Claire had demanded, genuinely
    baffled, mentally sorting through all the snide remarks she had made.
    Hal was always worried that the station would get hit with a defamation
    suit. 
            Her leg was aching again and she toyed with the idea of going
    to Elena for help, discarding the notion as soon as it entered her head.
    
            She fumbled with the lock of her door, sleep making her uncoordinated.
    
            Her neighbour's door open and she was confronted with six feet
    of faintly tousled mountie.
    
            "Good evening Miss Dempsey." he greeted her cheerfully as if
    they were on the best of terms.
    
            Her obstinate lock refused to give and she swore rather pithily
    in idiomatic French, making Fraser blink a little.
    
            "Would you like any assistance, Miss Dempsey?" Fraser inquired
    and Marie-Claire didn't deign to answer him.  Her head ached and all
    she wanted was a hot shower and then to fall into bed.
    
            "I just thought that you might want to know that all of those
    apprehended today were most co-operative and the ring-leaders were caught
    as they attempted to flee town today."
    
            Dief edged his muzzle around Fraser's knee and grinned doggily
    at Marie-Claire who smiled reluctantly at him.
            "Don't let this go to your head," she told him.
    
            "I heard the placement calls on the radio - all of the unfortunate
    animals in question will be placed in good homes.  Though naturally none
    of them are as fortunate as Perceval." He said pleasantly.
    
            The door finally opened and Perceval came strolling, his nose
    in the air and his tail high as if he was an aristocrat rather than the
    somewhat disreputable ragbag he was.
    
            He was truly the most ugly excuse for a cat she had ever seen.
    Multi-coloured, slightly evil-eyed with crooked ears and an arrogant
    walk, he was an unlovable and villainous-looking creature.  Nonetheless,
    he was an extremely loyal feline and an excellent rat catcher.
    
            Although, Marie-Claire thought with a frown, the big, fat healthy
    rat hadn't been found yet.  She suspected the rodent of laying
    low....growing bigger....fatter.....more bold until it could devour Diefenbaker.
    
            It was a source of annoyance that the big, fat rat still eluded
    her trusty mouse catcher.  If she didn't know better, she could have
    sworn that big, fat rat was paying her cat protection money.
    
            Perceval played around her ankles, purring to show his approval
    of her return.
    
            "Good evening Perceval," Fraser greeted the cat who gave him
    a very disparaging glare out of its indeterminate-coloured eyes.
    
            Very deliberately, Perceval turned around, lifted its tail in
    the air as he strutted into Marie-Claire's apartment as if he owned the
    place, at the same time giving Fraser a very clear view of his posterior.
    
            "Well he behaves like his  name, even if he doesn't look like
    it." Marie-Claire said to herself, glancing at her neighbour who was
    still looking a little bemused at being snubbed by a cat.
    
            "I thought the Native American story you recounted this evening
    was most appropriate - and well-told."
    
            It was hard to be rude to someone who was being so nice, but
    Marie-Claire was nothing if not consistent.
            "I need a shower." she said flatly.
    
            "Oh that reminds me," Fraser began,"I realise that it's been
    a little cold, but do you realise that your long, hot showers are using
    up all of the hot water?  By morning - the water is ice cold."
    
            He walked right into that one, Marie-Claire thought wickedly,"Well
    you can dream that you're back in the Yukon, constable," she said as
    she closed the door firmly behind her.
    
            "It would seem that our neighbour's manners are improving, Dief,
    she didn't slam it that time," Fraser commented to his wolf who looked
    very sceptical, turned around and headed back into the apartment.
    
            For the remainder of the morning as Fraser lay back in bed and
    listened to the sounds of the Bee Gees wailing through his wall, he wondered
    if door-slamming wasn't preferable.
    
    THE END
    


End file.
